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emptystove · 5 hours

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The Long Con - Ch 17

One Piece Fanfic (Romance/Drama/Suspense)

Pairing: Nami x Law

Rating: EXPLICIT, 18+ ONLY

CW: Violence

Chapter Summary: The Vinsmokes are back baby!

Posted to AO3, FanFiction, and Wattpad under HortyCord.

Chapter 17 - Second Chances

The creaking of metal walls against soft ocean waves lulled Law out of his heavy slumber. It was comforting. The sounds of a submarine that others would find a source of anxiety always seemed to put him at ease. This time, though, it was almost eerily calming. The feelings of tranquility that washed over him were followed by a strange chill crawling up his spine. As if his own body was telling him to reject the peace he was feeling. There were other sounds now too. Gulls squawking in the distance and heavy footsteps moving near him. He was about to question why they were still surfaced when he started to remember all that had happened. There was no way this was the Polar Tang.

Law opened his eyes.

He was lying on his back on a stiff cot. He could hear what sounded like medical equipment to the left and right of the head of his bed.

His vision was surprisingly clear for how foggy his mind felt. He blinked slowly at the ceiling as he tried to understand the words being spoken around him.

"He looks like shit," a deep voice laughed.

"Yeah, that's nothing new for him though," another cackled.

"Give us the room," a soft, feminine voice sounded from just behind his bed. Law was barely able to recognize Niji and Yonji before the two brothers left the room.

As the door shut behind them, Law rolled his head slightly to try to get a view of whoever was left with him. He was still struggling to wrap his mind around everything he was experiencing. He was with the Vinsmokes. So either he died and went to hell, or he was alive and, well, also in hell.

He recognized the pink hair, guarded smirk, and telltale brow from her file immediately.

"Vinsmoke Reiju," he rasped.

"Trafalgar Law," she replied coolly, not even sparing him a glance as she continued to check the information displayed on the machines monitoring him.

"Where am I?" he asked, although he was fairly certain of the answer already.

"You are on my ship," she began, moving her eyes and hands to poke and prod at certain areas of his body. "A few days out from Germa. How do you feel?"

The sluggishness he felt upon waking was fading fast as he pondered her question. Despite all his body had been through, he felt... good. As he began doing his own head-to-toe evaluation of himself, he realized that Reiju had lifted his wrist to extend his arm in different directions. His right arm.

Law bolted upright, snatching his arm from her grasp to move the appendage on his own. He twisted and bent it in all directions while opening and closing his fingers, testing his range of motion at each joint. It was unreal. He looked to his bicep and traced his finger along a faint scar encircling the skin around his arm. His arm had been reattached, but if he didn't know any better, he would never know he had ever lost it. Not only did he feel no pain or tenderness, he felt stronger than ever.

The fabric that was covering him fell further to his waist as he shifted slightly, and he realized only then that he was completely naked apart from the white sheets on the bed.

"How long has it been..." he mumbled to himself, staring in the palms of his hands.

"Since your little fall on Dressrosa? Hmm, I'd say no more than two days."

That's not possible.

His eyes shot up to Reiju. "What did you do to me?" He demanded.

"Isn't it obvious?" She leaned casually against the side of the bed, a relaxed grin on one side of her face.

It was obvious. He knew, but he didn't want to believe it. He should be dead after what happened on Dressrosa. There was only one person he had witnessed recover from extreme injury in such a short amount of time. Yonji's broken arm had fully healed in a few days. The Vinsmoke enhancements would be the only explanation for his reattached limb, his absurdly quick recovery, and his newfound feeling of strength. And if he had the physical enhancements, that means they also gave him...

A million questions raced through his mind as he struggled to comprehend his situation.

He glanced around the room. It was definitely a medical bay or perhaps even a dedicated recovery room. His clothing was neatly folded on a table near the door, and his nodachi lay casually on top of them. He turned back to Reiju, eying her carefully, then scanning over the equipment behind him.

"What do you want with me?" He ran a hand down his face as he grimaced.

"Gee, they said you were gloomy, but I thought they were exaggerating," she mused lightly.

"You wouldn't save my life without planning to use it for your own gain. What could Judge possibly want with me?" He still felt like he was in a state of shock, but his mind was working quickly. He resisted his impulse to lunge for his weapon and attempt escape. The chill running up his spine was strangely grounding. He had no idea who else was on the ship or even if he had a chance against them. Besides all of the unknowns of the situation he found himself in, he had a nagging feeling that something was off. Something he hadn't put together yet.

A few days out from Germa...

"What my father wants with you should also be obvious." She stated casually as she led him to answer his own question.

"He wants to know exactly what we took, what happened to the information, and who else knows about it," he reasoned aloud, and she nodded to confirm his hypothesis. He was starting to get his wits about him again. He eyed Reiju briefly before shifting his gaze again to the medical equipment behind him. "What do you want with me?"

"Now, why would ask a question like that?" A coy grin spread across her features.

Law stared her down and let out a sigh. "You completed the enhancement procedure immediately upon my arrival because you had no choice. It was the only way to keep me from dying. The safest course of action from there would be to keep me in a medically induced coma until we arrived at Germa." He gestured toward the medical bay they were in. "You have the means to do just that, but you didn't. You also made sure to kick out your brothers when I woke. I suppose you could be doing this on Judge's orders, but I doubt it. I read all of your files. I know how it works. All of the control chips are programmed to make you obey the head of the Vinsmoke family. Even if he was confident you could overpower me, why not wait until we are on Germa? It would be needlessly risky of Judge to have you wake me up with enhancements without him there to control me. So, I'll ask again. What do you want with me?"

"They said you were clever." Reiju's smile widened at his conclusion. "I'm glad they were right."

She hopped off the bed and moved to stand closer to where he sat on the edge.

"Law," she started, and she waited to continue until his eyes were connected with hers. "Look in my eyes whenever I say your name."

Click.

It felt like something in his neck popped, and he rolled his shoulders to loosen his joints.

"I want you to tell me everything. Now, before my father has a chance to ask you."

Law rolled his eyes. "You seem to have heard a lot about me. What exactly have you heard that makes you think I'll cooperate willingly?"

"They said the King of Dressrosa all but took your life. You can't possibly still have allegiance to him."

"I have no allegiance to Doflamingo," he replied dryly. That conclusion was obvious, but the reminder of where they found him made him furrow his brows. "How did you know we were on Dressrosa?"

"We didn't," she chuckled lightly. "It was truly an accident that my brothers found you. We were following someone else."

Law eyed her suspiciously as she turned to gaze out the window.

"The only reason my brothers were able to reach the island was with the cover from the storm. After they found you, they had no choice but to retreat. They brought you back to my ship, but with the overgrown bird's men starting to search for your body, we knew we wouldn't be able to stay without being spotted. Breeching the shores uninvited would be grounds for war, and although I have no issue watching the Donquixotes burn, I'm not willing to let everything else I want burn with them." She let out a long sigh before turning back to Law. "You are not who I wanted to retrieve from that island. Still... I think fate brought us together for a reason."

Law tilted his head. "You were looking for Sanji."

It was only for a moment, but he could tell something softened in her gaze before she returned to her well practiced indifference.

"My father and I were absent during your visit to Germa. It was advertised as a diplomatic mission, but we were following a lead. The strongest evidence we had yet of his survival. He was gone by the time we arrived, but he had definitely been there. His disappearance coincided with a former royal family member from Dressrosa being spotted in the area.

"Father was planning for us to travel to Dressrosa directly, and we would have, if not for the complete disaster my brothers caused in our absence. We headed back to Germa immediately after hearing what you and your partner had stolen. Father was so furious. Even more so when he had to forcibly command Ichiji not to take his ship to search for her."

She paused to glance at Law with a soft smile before it fell into a more thoughtful frown as she looked away. "I watched the surveillance footage from the lab." She looked like she wanted to say more but shook her head instead.

"When there was no trace of the two of you and nothing came of your bounties, he finally allowed the three of us to go there searching for my-," she swallowed hard, "for Sanji."

Reiju turned to fully face Law, and for the first time, her composure cracked. She looked truly vulnerable.

"Law," she started, and his eyes connected with hers immediately. "Tell me: Is Sanji on Dressrosa?"

Click.

"Yes," he heard himself reply instantly.

"Is he alive?" She pushed, but Law was furrowing his brows in confusion as his gaze fell. He wasn't planning to give that information up so easily, even after everything she admitted to him.

"Law," she commanded, and his gut twisted as his eyes found hers again without delay. She gripped his arm urgently. "Tell me: Is Sanji alive?"

Click.

"He was alive two days ago when I last saw him," his voice betrayed him again.

"Law." He fought desperately to look away, to close his eyes, anything to resist what felt like an inherent need to meet her gaze. His golden eyes met her purple ones instantly. "Tell me: Why did Donquixote Doflamingo try to kill you?"

Click.

"I betrayed him. He found out that I only came back to work for him in order to take him down." No matter how hard he fought, the truth spilled from his lips without a hint of protest.

Law's eyes widened in realization. "You... the control chip... You didn't program mine to submit to the head of the Vinsmoke family."

"Law," her voice overpowered him again. Despite his attempts to resist, he met her eyes instantly, waiting for his next command. "Tell me... What is it you care about most in this world?"

Click.

Law's whole body felt like it was on fire. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion as the realization of his situation finally sunk in. Reiju programed his control chip to respond to her commands instead of her father's. Reiju didn't care about the classified information that he stole from her family. Reiju cared about Sanji. And she was going to use the answer to her next question to get him back no matter the cost.

"Nami."

Law stopped fighting his instincts and lunged off the bed toward his weapon. He couldn't let them get more information on her. He promised to protect her. He refused to let her down again.

He was expecting to hear Reiju call his name to control him again, but she didn't. As his fingertips grazed the hilt of his sword, he felt the heel of her boot connect with his face. He tightened his hold around his blade as he began to fall under her kick, swinging it as fast as he could before his body hit the floor. Instead of moving away, she lunged after him, stopping his swing with a tight grip on his wrist as her body pinned him down. Her other hand clamped down hard around the front of his neck. His free hand tugged at her arm, but her steely fingers only tightened further around his throat.

"I know what this looks like, but I took an unbelievable risk when I saved your life. If my brothers find out what I did to your chip, they won't hesitate to kill us both. I am not your enemy."

He wasn't sure if he could believe her. He doubted he could trust anyone from her family, despite everything she was telling him. Maybe it was the look in her eyes, or maybe it was his desperate situation, but something made him pause.

"I need to know you won't cause enough noise to make my brothers feel the need to check on us. If I promise I won't use the chip against you again, will you agree to hear me out?" She continued.

"It didn't seem like you had a problem controlling me against my will before. Why would I trust you not to do it again?"

"That was different," she pursed her lips and glanced away momentarily. "I had to know the truth, and I couldn't risk being mislead about any of those details."

Reiju pushed off of him and stood up. She tossed him his clothes before turning away and giving him some space, never once looking lower than his eyes.

"Look, I want us to trust each other. Believe it or not, like it or not, it doesn't matter. Neither of us have a chance at getting what we want alone. My father wants Sanji. My brother wants Nami. They won't stop until they have them. Neither of them deserve that fate. We don't stand a chance against them alone, but if we keep my family from realizing that you aren't fully controlled by my father, we have a chance to catch them off guard. We can use that to our advantage."

"How exactly do you plan to do that?"

"Once my father learns of Sanji's whereabouts, he will formulate a plan to retrieve him, and quickly. We will make sure you tell him that much, and as long as he believes your control trip is set to obey him, we can make sure he only learns what we want him to learn. But before we can determine what to tell him, I need you to tell me everything about what's happened on Dressrosa. We have a few days before we get back. If we work together, we can come up the best plan of action to free Sanji and Nami from both my family and the Donquixotes."

Finally clothed again, Law sheathed his nodachi and placed it gently on the table. He was skeptical of her proposal, but what she was telling him made sense. She had already taken steps to work against her family by programming his control chip to obey her instead of Judge, and the way she spoke about Sanji made it clear that saving him was her priority. Even if she was lying about that, what other option did he have but to cooperate?

"Why Sanji? Why risk going against your father and other brothers just for him?"

"Because Sanji is different," she began, her features growing softer each time she spoke of him. "He always was. He's not like the rest of us. He's kind and loving and everything opposite of what my father wanted him to be. When we were kids, I helped him escape. He stowed away on a merchant ship heading across the world, but we made it look like he fled into the desert. It was the only decent thing I've done my whole life. It wasn't until recently that rumors of someone fitting his description reached our shores. I hoped with all of my heart that it wasn't him...," she trailed off in her own thoughts until she cleared her throat and turned back to face Law.

"Sanji and Nami aren't like us. You and I are killers. We will give up everything we have to achieve our goals, even if means getting our hands dirty. They are innocents just trying to survive in this fucked up world. You said yourself that she means more to you than anything else. I won't force you, but I need you to promise that you will put aside whatever revenge you seek against the king until after we free them."

Law's heart still ached for Rosinante, and it probably always would, but his defeat at the hands of Doflamingo gave him a clarity he didn't expect. He didn't need to be under the influence on the control chip to know the truth of his feelings as they were now. He should have died that night, but he was being given a second chance, another opportunity to do something right for once. His parents were gone, his sister was gone, and Rosa was gone. He wasn't going to let that happen to Nami.

"I promise."

Reiju smiled and offered her hand. "Partners then?"

"Partners," he affirmed, returning the handshake.

Law let out a long sigh. The tense atmosphere had dissipated, but he wasn't about to relax or let his guard down. They needed to start formulating a plan quickly, and he needed to make sure one major road block wasn't going to stop them before they could even start.

"We should be able to convince Judge to spare my life after he questions me, but I doubt Ichiji will be as easily persuaded. He might just kill me on sight the second we set foot on Germa."

"Don't worry, we'll be back before him. We will have plenty of time to convince my father long before we have to deal with Ichiji," she stated easily.

Law furrowed his brows. "I thought you said Judge didn't let him leave to search for Nami?"

"He didn't, not when we first arrived. After repairing the damage they caused to the lab, Father allowed the three of us to search for Sanji while Ichiji followed his own lead on her. But Nami was with you on Dressrosa, right? If that's the case, my brother might be gone even longer than I hoped while he searches for her."

Law's stomach was churning. He should've been glad Ichiji was gone to search somewhere that Nami wasn't, but it still unnerved him. "We left no trace in Germa. What lead could he be following?"

Reiju turned her full attention back to Law as she noticed his unease. "He found a hand drawn map in the sheets of her bed."

Law's stomach dropped. "A map of what?"

"It didn't say. It had no names or symbols indicating what island it was. He narrowed it down to a few places it could be, and sent out a few scout ships until he confirmed it was actually a territory owned by a criminal organization of fishmen...," she paused briefly as she watched his eyes widen. "I figured you left it there to throw him off your trail."

"No. He wasn't supposed to find that."

Law shook his head and closed his eyes. There was only one map he saw her take back into her bedroom. He assumed it was hidden in her bags, not her bed sheets. Of course that fucking pervert found it there. Her most personal illustration. The map of her home. The island where no one remained but one person. The person she was doing all of this to protect somehow.

"It's a map to Nami's sister."

*****

Cocoyashi Village

Nojiko held her breath as she crouched inside the cramped shelter beneath her home. Her eyes were glued to the floorboards above her head, searching for any sign of movement.

Nothing about this made sense to her, but she knew she needed to be patient until she could understand what was happening and why.

Whoever was dumb enough to dock on this island should have been run out of here by the fishmen already. She had stayed in her home as she heard the unmistakable sounds of a battle drawing further inland. But she had only seen one small ship. Surely, a vessel that size couldn't house enough people to overpower Arlong's men.

In addition to Nojiko's prison, Arlong used this island as a temporary cache for smuggling. Even if this group somehow beat the fishmen stationed here, they should just clean out whatever he has stashed and leave. Anything of value was kept closer to the coast, and the longer they hung around, the higher the risk that more fishmen would arrive. They should have no reason to keep searching. Still, the sounds of struggle moved further and further toward her home.

She wouldn't fight to save any of her captors, but she also refused to let herself be taken. Arlong couldn't blame her for the deaths of his men, but he would easily blame her for her absence. She made a promise long ago to look out for her little sister. She'd been doing a real shit job of it her whole life, too. As things were now, this was the price she had to pay to keep Nami alive, and she wasn't about to screw that up. The last thing she wanted to do was hide, but facing anyone who managed to get past the fishmen guarding the island was suicide. She had to stay alive. She had to stay hidden.

The sounds of distant fighting had stopped, but she could tell someone was nearby. The snapping of twigs and the rustling of startled wildlife grew closer and closer.

The shack that she called a home was barely standing. Whoever was searching the island should easily dismiss it as another abandoned property and move on.

The front door slowly creaked open.

Nojiko moved a hand to cover her mouth as she held in a shaky breath. She willed herself to remain calm, to remain silent. It was going to be ok. She could stay hidden as long as she didn't make a sound.

Heavy footsteps slowly traversed the room.

She couldn't see what they looked liked, but there was only one of them. A quick scan should have been enough for them to realize there was nothing of value in this dump, but this person wasn't leaving.

The footsteps stopped just above her, and she held her breath.

Her heart was racing as she stared unblinking at the wooden planks above her. Even if she thought she could move without being detected, the hole she was in was too small to extend the string of her bow. A quiet rage was burning in her gut at her feeling of utter helplessness.

She heard the intruder drop to one knee.

She forced her body to remain absolutely motionless as she heard rough fingertips gliding across the entrance to her hiding place.

The hand above was retracted but they didn't retreat from their position above her. Nojiko's chest tightened. Something about this person felt so wrong. She hadn't even seen their face, but every fiber of her being was screaming at her to escape. This was no low life criminal looking to plunder. This person was different. She could feel their murderous aura, and for the first time since she was a child, she was terrified.

The figure shifted and just between the cracks, a single crimson eye locked onto her.

She didn't have time to think before his fist crashed through the loose boards above her.

His hand latched onto her neck with vice-like grip. What remained of the wooden planks concealing her hiding place were shattered as he wrenched her back above ground. He tossed her casually on the floor, and moved to stand between her and the door.

He glanced into the now empty hiding place before taking a step closer, eyeing her carefully.

"Who are you?" His flat, emotionless tone contrasted harshly with the abrupt violence of his actions from just a moment prior.

"Who the fuck are you?" Nojiko spat, feigning a confidence she did not have in that moment.

He stepped closer again. "I am Vinsmoke Ichiji, first prince of Germa. Nami sent me here." For the briefest moment, she thought she saw sparks behind the deep pools of crimson in his eyes before he repeated his question, just as cold and intimidating as when he first spoke. "Who are you?"

She scrunched up her face as she tried desperately to make sense of what he was saying. Would Nami really send someone like this to Cocoyashi? She hadn't been allowed to speak with her sister in months. The last she heard, someone had a bounty on her head, and if she read the newspaper Hatchi left her correctly, the ones responsible for that were the Vinsmokes. It was an "only alive" bounty, but still. There was so much about the situation she didn't understand, so much that she didn't like, but she didn't have much of a choice. She couldn't trust this stranger, but she could trust Nami.

He took another step closer and she finally sputtered out, "N-Nojiko! I'm Nojiko."

She expected him to give any sign of recognition, but he just continued to stare.

"Nami's my sister."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked her up and down. "You cannot be sisters. You look nothing alike."

Nojiko rolled her eyes dramatically and huffed, "We may have been adopted, but she's still my fucking sister." She finally stood from where she had been thrown on the floor, muttering grievances under her breath.

Fucking moron.

If Nami led this asshole to Cocoyashi, she must have had a good reason. Still, Nojiko was skeptical. He said Nami sent him here, but the way he spoke made it seem like he expected Nami to be the one waiting for him, not Nojiko. "Why are you here?"

Ichiji ignored her question, letting out a short huff of air before turning to gaze out of the open doorway. He appeared to be deep in thought, waiting several moments before addressing Nojiko again. "Come. We are leaving."

She didn't move.

Ichiji turned back around after stepping outside when it was clear she wasn't following.

"I don't understand," she wanted to believe Nami sent him there to retrieve her, but she had a hard time believing Nami would send someone here willingly without mentioning Nojiko or even that she had a sister. "W-where is Nami? What happened to Arlong?" She would have cursed at the way her voice wavered if she wasn't all but consumed by the sinking feeling overtaking her.

Ichiji pulled an elaborate gold pocket watch from his blood-splattered pants. He glanced at it briefly before securing it back in it's place. "Consider it a testament of my feelings for your sister that I decided not to return you to her in pieces. Continue to waste my time, and I will be forced to reconsider."

Fuck.

Nojiko stumbled forward and out of her home. As she followed him down the path toward town, she could smell the far too familiar mixture of burning buildings and bloody corpses. It was too quiet for the destruction she knew had taken place there. Walking through the streets of what had been the small port town, there were no signs of life. The bodies of every fishman posted on or near Cocoyashi littered the streets, and as they moved farther toward the coast, Nojiko realized it was only fishmen bodies. There was no evidence that another army or even a small group had engaged in the fight. No human remains, no dropped weapons, there was no one else there.

Her eyes moved to Ichiji as they neared the dock. The sounds she had heard from the hole under her home were not that of a grand battle. It was only him. He alone killed them all, and despite the blood soaking his fine clothes, he was completely uninjured.

Nojiko stepped off the dock and onto his ship. It was the first time she had stepped foot outside of Cocoyashi. She had dreamt of this moment for years, how she would feel, where she would go first, what her home might look like from the sea. But as she ship cast off and moved further away, she couldn't take her eyes off of her captor. She couldn't bring herself to ask all of the burning questions she needed to. All she could do was stare at his back as the only words she could think of sounded out over and over in her mind.

This isn't a man. This is a monster.

*****

Author's Note:

I don't know if this made sense how I wrote it, but Ichiji always knew when Nami lied (except when she was basically pretending she was talking to Law and not him). So Ichiji had always known Nami wasn't being honest when she introduced Law as her brother. He didn't really care at the time because the lies were addressed more toward Yonji and Niji and he did not know what they were planning.

He was genuinely confused in this chapter when Nojiko told him she was Nami's sister because his observation enhancements let him see she was not lying about that. I think he is also stupid enough to believe that when people are siblings, they have to have the same eyebrows lol.

Thank you so so much for reading this far! Let me know what you think - I live and breathe for your comments!

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#fanfic #one piece fanfiction #law x nami #nami x law #lawna #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke reiju

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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baby blue- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, tony stark bruce banner, steve rogers, sam wilson warnings: child bucky, language, this is long. why is this so long about: requested by @cherry-season (apparently can't tag you)! bucky turns into a baby/toddler and is clingy a/n: okay so i know virtually nothing about three-year-olds. can you tell? thank you so much for requesting!! I had so much fun writing this <333

[@tylard-blog1]

bucky’s day wasn’t particularly fantastic to begin with.

he was already exhausted when he woke up in the early lights of the morning, his nightmares had kept him up all night-- which you theorized was due to the mission the day before that took place in one of the same hydra bases bucky had been held in. you had frowned when you realized it the day of, turning your attention to bucky and making sure he was okay with it because if he wasn’t, you would make sure someone else took care of it. he had insisted it was fine, even though the next night proved him wrong. you had done what you could, running your fingers through his hair and humming lightly until you fell asleep and he refused to wake you up, resigning himself to a sleepless night.

his morning started with his flesh arm reaching out to feel your side of the bed, hoping to find your soft, warm skin to pull you closer, but instead being met with the unkind sheets that missed the gentleness of your body. he had frowned when he realized you had already left for a meeting with some important hotshot in space with carol (you couldn’t find a better excuse to go get breakfast at your favorite alien restaurant with your favorite aliens) and wouldn’t be back for a solid few hours too long. groaning, and with no real reason to stay in bed for any longer without the excuse of getting to feel you for a few more hours, he dragged himself out of bed.

it didn’t get much better from there, because he was greeted with the sight of sam eating the last bowl of the last box of cereal in the whole damn tower because everyone rejected to go grocery shopping. since bucky refused to eat any of the frozen breakfasts tony loved so much and the stark kid swore were “the best thing ever,” he grunted at sam and walked away without eating, knowing he’d regret it later when his stomach would growl and you would immediately know he skipped breakfast.

for some unknown reason, tony had found out about bucky’s lack of things to do, and with a few winks and manipulative large-worded engineering phrases, convinced him to join him in the lab, which bucky had only really been able to see through the clear glass that separated the lab from the rest of the tower, and from the occasions where he would take food and drinks to you while you locked yourself away inside, building something alongside tony.

being inside, so close to the various machines and objects bucky cant begin to figure out the purpose of, his memories of being in school and at the top of his math and engineering classes bubble to the surface, filling him with the pride he remembers having every day at school. the thought that he could probably understand everything if you or tony explained it to him passes through his mind and urges him to ask tony to do just that, but tony beats him before he can get the chance.

bruce is eyeing them wearily from the other side of the lab, attention mostly on the test tubes in front of him. he gives bucky a smile when he comes in, but seems to ignore him for the most part until tony shows bucky to bruce’s work station, pointing out a blue liquid in a test tube marked TESTING. bruce’s neck snaps to them when tony open his big mouth, “you know, y/n was actually supposed to test something out for me today,” tony begins innocently, a suggestion laced in his words that bucky catches but decides to ignore because of the high he feels from understanding the equations scribbled on the clear glass, “do you know where she is?”

bucky narrows his eyes at him, then looks up at the clock, realizing it’s still a while before you get back, “not even on earth,” he recipes blandly, slyly sneaking a glance at the liquid for any indications of what it could be.

tony sighs dramatically, his shoulders sagging, “oh no, how do i test this now?” bruce shoots tony a warning glance that is blatantly ignored.

bucky’s shrugging before he can help it, the reminder that since you were going to do it, what could be the harm if he did? “i could do it.”

tony claps, “great!” he gestures to a door behind him, “please go in there to sign non-disclosure agreements and wash your hands.”

bucky’s shoved inside before he can fully understand the implications of his stupid offer.

the thought of asking the basic questions he should have asked before he agreed to test an unidentified liquid comes to bucky nearly an hour later, when the small vial of weird blue liquid sits in front of him, waiting to be drunk. tony and bruce sit in chairs a couple of feet away, clipboards in both of their hands, and interested expressions settled on their features.

“what does this do again?” he asks, squinting at the vial that he doesn’t notice tony isn’t looking at, furrowing his eyebrows when tony waves him off, “something super smart. no side effects or anything.” bucky’s eyes flit down to the little vial again, before they nearly bug out of his head at the humongous laser that is rolled into the room, “what the hell is that.”

“ah,” tony grins, bouncing from his seat to stand next to his invention proudly, “this is what you’re testing out.” bucky cocks his head at the man, “i thought i was drinking blue water. y/n was going to drink blue water.” tony shakes his head, adjusting some dials on the machine, “yeah, no, it was this. pretty sure i told you.”

“you didn’t-” bruce is looking at tony in concern, about to tell him to slow down so bucky has a chance to think all this through again and maybe ask if there is any chance the laser will melt him, when tony clicks a large red button and a bright white light clouds bucky’s vision just as he sees the clock on the exact same time he saw an hour ago, realizing the clock in the billion-dollar lab is broken, and you’re probably getting home any second.

“tony!” he hears bruce yell before his vision goes dark.

it’s only a second until he can pry open his eyes again, a hand curling into a fist, ready to pound stark into tomorrow when he can suddenly feel the nails of his hand digging into his palm. the surprising feeling of it where his vibranium arm should be forces him to look down at a small arm, fully skin and thin. he looks around, noticing his surroundings suddenly have grown very large around him, and the sound of his voice is higher when he tries to speak again.

“what the f-” he mumbles, cutting himself off when a sudden memory of his ma yelling at him to wash his mouth out if he wants to talk like that floods his mind, and he stares down at himself, eyebrows furrowing when he spots his short stature and the tiny hands and feet that look up at him. realization floods him like a wave, raising his chin at the two, tall, gobsmacked men in front of. “was that supposed to happen?” bruce asks quietly, nodding slowly when tony shakes his head, “no.”

there’s a light knock at the door, your hand pushing it open before anyone can stop you, and your tired face peeks in, a glowing smiling adorning your face and your eyes searching for your boyfriend, “hey, do you guys know where bucky is-” your voice cuts through the stunned silence, pausing when you catch the little boy’s eye. at first, you stare at him, your eyebrows pulling together as you get a good look at the familiar cerulean of his eyes and scan the clothing you’d seen on bucky before. for a second, everything is silent, bucky’s eyes are wide and staring as yours bore into them, searching for something you’re nearly touching until you gasp, “bucky?” you choke, reaching for him when he nods, his legs already trying to reach you as fast as they possibly can but they buckle. bucky realizes just then how old he must be now. “oh, baby,” you murmur, gathering him up in your arms before he can fall to the hard ground of the lab. “what the hell did you idiots do to my boyfriend?” you demand, turning to the two scientists who are going over tony’s notes.

bruce glances at tony, tilting his head at him as if to say him. you roll your eyes, not having any more information than when you asked, “tony?” you growl, walking over to the man, not missing the way little bucky’s hand grabs onto your shirt.

“it didn’t- that wasn’t supposed to happen,” tony defends weakly, a lazy shrug pulling at his shoulders. your eyes flash with velvet red, and, without moving a finger, tony’s pulled in front of you, wrapped in red swirls bucky can’t help but gawk at.

“fix it.” you order. tony nods, pursing his lips, “we’ll do that.” bruce looks a little taken aback, looking up from tony’s scribbles and equations. “i don’t think it’ll last more than a day,” he offers helpfully, “whatever it was tony was trying to do wasn’t either.”

bucky’s eyes start to droop, which he assumes is an effect of the sleepless night he just had on his infant body, something that usually wouldn’t affect him in his one-hundred-and-six-year-old self. he hums when he realizes the irony, leaning his head against the welcoming crook of your neck and catching your attention. you turn to him for a moment, softening a little before turning back to tony and glaring at him, “fix it.”

steve catches you when you walk out of the lab, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he spots the toddler in your arms, “holy shit, that looks exactly like bucky,” he breathes, scanning the dark mussed-up hair and stepping back when bucky opens his eyes. from next to him, sam looks from bucky to you, “did you two have a kid and not tell anyone, because this-”

“is bucky. that’s bucky.” you interrupt, looking at the toddler, “tony messed up with something and… this happened, i don’t completely… bucky’s a baby.”

steve raises an eyebrow, squinting at his best friend, “ha,” he laughs, “wow, he looks exactly like his pictures. he must be about three years old.” bucky blinks at him. “his ma said he was chatting up a storm at that age, though,” steve informs, looking back up at you. sam grins, “has he said anything? i kinda want to hear if he still sounds old.” bucky frowns at him, his pout deepening when sam bursts into laughter, “his grumpy face is the same!”

you look at your boyfriend, tilting your head and smiling a little when you realize he’s right, “you’re cute,” you coo now that you get a good look at him, “you’re so cute,” you murmur, poking his nose with your finger. bucky can’t help the blush that comes to his cheeks. but he slaps away sam’s fingers, scowling at him, “no.” he argues, “no.”

sam frowns, “no old man voice.”

“i hate you,” bucky says to sam, and you laugh, “i think we should leave for now. i need to figure out what will make three-year-old bucky not as grumpy.” sam looks at bucky’s furrowed brows and the same two little lines between them, his eyes flickering back up to yours, “i think that may just be a bucky thing.”

you bring bucky to the living room, sitting him down at the edge of the couch and crouching in front of him, watching him and his little crossed arms, bottom lip jutted out against his own will. bucky isn’t used to the emotional control of a child who’s three and can’t control the frustration that’s coursing through him at the moment. the only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to leave him again.

“bucky?” you start, looking deep into the wide blue eyes that let you know it is bucky you’re speaking to. “what do you want to do? are you hungry? d’you want to sleep?” bucky shakes his head stubbornly at you, “i want tony to fix this.”

you sigh, “i know, baby. i do too, but until he finds a cure to this, you’re gonna stay small for a couple more hours.” he pouts at that, and you smooth your thumb over his cheek, “no pouting. we can do whatever you want, buck.”

just as he’s about to reject any idea you have, his stomach rumbles loudly, directing your attention to the arms that guiltily cover up his middle. “bucky... did you eat breakfast today?” you query, a lecturing tone sneaking into your words. “sam ate my cereal,” bucky grumbles, crossing his arms.

“bucky!” you exclaim, standing up to turn to the kitchen, “that’s no excuse. i told you you needed to eat--” you’re barely three steps into the kitchen when you hear the pattering of his feet towards you, grubby hands pawing at your legs.

“don’t leave,” he whines, hugging your ankles and sitting down on the floor, “you left all morning,” he mumbles, smushing his cheeks against your calf.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, bending over to brush away the hair that falls over his eyes. “c’mere,” you murmur, reaching down to pick him up again and bounce him on your hip while you head to the kitchen. “what do you want to eat?” bucky thinks about it for a minute, before smiling, “i want pizza and ice cream.” you frown at him, “i don’t think three-year-olds can eat that. actually, i don’t think anyone should.”

after consulting google on what three-year-olds should eat, you have bucky’s head resting on your shoulder, refusing to let you put him down even as you made him the mac and cheese he had agreed to, still a little upset over the fact you wouldn’t let him eat all the other things he wanted. the only time he let you not carry him was when he was eating, still insisting you sit right next to him to watch as he smeared cheese all over tony’s expensive table.

“okay,” you whisper breathlessly after watching him eat his third bowl of the meal, “i think that’s good.” you shove the dirty dishes in the sink, washing bucky’s hands and wiping at him cheeks with a warm cloth to get the mess he managed to create off. “did you forget how to eat?” you wonder aloud when you finally fnish cleaning him up, watching his small shoulders shrug.

“what do you want to do now? anything you want,” you propose.

“i want you,” he says, reaching his stubby arms out, “cuddles. ‘m sleepy,” he yawns, making grabby hands at you when you take too long to pick him up. “bucky,” you chuckle, complying with him and bringing him into your chest, where he leans his head on your shoulder. “you sure you don’t want to play or something? you don’t want to…” you trail off, trying to think of what three-year-olds do, “walk or read or something?”

bucky grunts in your ear, his eyelids already closing again, “cuddles,” he repeats, balling your shirt up in his little hands.

“okay,” you sigh, bouncing him gently while you walk to your shared bedroom. you pick up a stuffed animal you brought for bucky from one of your most recent missions, “did you sleep last night? is that why you’re so tired?” bucky hums, cuddling further into your chest when you lay down with him on top of you. you hand him the little dog plush, pressing a kiss to his head when he takes the gift, hugging it with you. “honey, i’m sorry,” you frown, gently threading your fingers through his short hair, humming the same song bucky sings to you when you can’t get to sleep. it doesn’t take long to lull him into the calmness of rest.

you only wake up when the weight on you is suddenly multiplied, completely taking your breath away, “bucky!-” you exclaim, rolling from underneath him to meet his closed eyes. you shake your head with a light laugh, drawing a strand of hair behind his ear before you press your lips to his cheeks, snuggling in with him again, “sweet dreams, darling,” you murmur, placing the stuffed animal he dropped on your dresser.

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forbidding-souda · 2 years

Note

I saw that you also write yandere characters and was wondering if you'd please write HCs for yandere Izuru? I imagine his S/O would be never able to escape him 🤧

Izuru Kamukura yandere headcanons

hi i had a caption here but then my tumblr crashed and I have no idea what it was LOL my bad

currently: washing machine heart by mitski

playlist: irene adler

-Mod Souda

❤ He loves to watch over you.

❤ Lingering in the shadows is where he feels the most safe. He doesn't want you to see him. And you won't.

❤ He can always tell your emotions. If you're sad, or upset, by the response you give him when he blandly asks if you're okay - he can already understand the cause.

❤ If it's a person then...

❤ Anyway. At first, you were nothing to him, just like every body else. He always saw you around. He kept his eyes on you but only for the fact that you were particularly attractive.

❤ But you did something that caught him off guard.

❤ This was before he even considered the fact that stalking you was something he morally shouldn't be doing.

❤ He was standing behind a wall, watching you walk alone, your face in your phone.

❤ He had gotten a text on the phone Junko gave him - the text was from her, of course. He internally rolled his eyes and checked it.

❤ By the time he looked back up you were gone. They made it home, that's good.

❤ "What are you doing?"

❤ It was your voice, coming from behind him.

❤ It takes him a moment to even turn his head to look at you.

❤ Ever since then - everything has been you.

❤ Seducing you was easy enough. He knew everything that made your heart race. He knew every supportive thing to say and every place to kiss.

❤ You are all his.

❤ Usually he isn't so patient. But witnessing the way he slowly flusters you - assessing the way you slowly open up to him, getting immediate responses to his efforts is worth every day.

❤ He makes you feel special. Even through his toxic behavior, that's why you stayed. His Ultimate means he has the knowledge of romance and sex but he'd never have the urge, or desire. You were the first one that made it all seem worth it to him. There was something about you that made someone with no emotions feel drawn in.

❤ When you look at yourself in the mirror, trying to see what a mind like his conjures when he thinks of you, all you can see is someone who looks like everybody else.

❤ It affects you emotionally, too, his behavior. Whenever you go out in public you can hardly feel alone. You always imagine him watch you when you're walking down the sidewalk, when you're buying drinks from the corner store, when you're in your room, undressing.

❤ In your mind, the anxiety keeps him with you, even when he's miles away.

❤ He doesn't exactly kidnap you. You don't consider it kidnapping - you love it when he pulls you away from situations to be alone with him. Often times it is annoying. But it's beyond your control. You know if you told him no that he wouldn't even hear it.

❤ But he will keep you locked up in his room for a long time. Almost never alone, and when you are alone it's not for more than an hour. He needs to be with you.

❤ Seeing you - your eyes, your lips, your hands, your neck - reminds him that you are real. If you are out of his sight then he's not too sure he can fall in love, and returning to you over and over again squashes those doubts.

❤ He's not too affection in a way that isn't meant to lure you in. He doesn't leave gifts at your house, or bring you flowers, or hold you close and caress you.

❤ He just stares. Always staring.

❤ Always taking in your features as if it's the first time he's ever seen you.

❤ Does he think highly of you? Not really. It's not like he worships you, or anything along those lines. You're more like a treasure, maybe an anomaly - nevertheless something unique that he wants to keep for himself. Like an expensive dog.

❤ You hardly fluster him. Hardly. The one thing you do that makes his heart beat increase is when you climb onto his lap, one of your hands gripping the roots of his hair near the base of his skull.

❤ His lips will part before he pulls you in.

❤ ^ He kisses you with the intention of not letting you notice how your initiation affects him.

❤ If you wanted to leave, wanted to escape, no <3.

❤ That's when he stops playing nice.

❤ The gentle way he pulls you away from the publics eye gets replaced by him nudging your pressure points, making you pass out, where he carries you to a place where it can only be the two of you.

❤ He will cut off your tongue if you decide to beg too much or curse him out.

❤ If you press him enough, he'll put you in an enclosure - a glass cage. If you want to act like a wild animal than he'll treat you like one.

❤ You're beautiful. Still, he would really rather you not fight against him. Every day he finds himself being genuinely grateful for your cooperation, until the day it ends, where he will take a breath before choosing to go on the hunt, promising himself - I will not let them get away.

#izuru kamukura x reader #danganronpa izuru #izuru kamukura #yandere headcanons #izuru kamukura headcanons #danganronpa headcanons #yandere #tw yandere #cw yandere #tw stalking #cw stalking

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4dtk · 3 years

Note

hi!!! are you taking smut requests? ignore this if you dont but if you are, can i request morning sex with mark?

nectar (mark)

warnings/tags: irl porn at the end for visualisation, blowjob, cum swallowing, riding, unprotected sex, pwp, brief face-sitting

word count: 1.9k

a/n: sure anon <3, this is for fem!reader btw. link at the end contains irl porn pleaaase don't click unless you're comfortable!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“oh man… he’s knocked out cold,” you mumble, squinting at the bright light seeping in through the windows. it baths the room in warmth perfectly, providing that gentle caress of apollo in the messy room that you could half call your home at this point. like the complicated wires of his recording software bundled up at the corner, you were entangled tightly with mark’s complicated life as an idol, having had met the man at a concert where the group’s lightstick hit you in the face, hard.

it had become a running joke ever since you’ve been coming over to the dorms more and more, even getting you a celebratory cake that said please don’t injure her again when mark had finally confessed after months of pestering from the members. johnny had whispered to you that maybe you could finally get your revenge by slamming mark’s face into the cake.

giggling quietly at the memory from two years ago, you’re finally met with mark’s peaceful face, deep in slumber. the sun hardly touches him, blocked by your body as you propped your upper body up with an elbow. he looks so beautiful, so so divine that you can’t help but trail a hand over his covered body, blanket up to his neck since he gets cold easily.

“mmhm…” he mumbles, albeit still unconscious with the slightest knit of his eyebrows. you’re on high alert with that expression, observing him for a few seconds more if he really did happen to have a bad dream. his breaths seem to be laboured, irregular and needy that you catch on without fail. while you readjust yourself under the covers, your knee brushes against his centre to test the waters while your eyes drink in the furrowing of his eyebrows and shaky breathless whimpers he lets out.

“oh. so it’s that kind of dream,” a smirk is plastered on your face, frequenting the contact of your knee against his crotch as you rub him through the fabric. mark thrashes in the sheets below you, obvious that your movements are only fuelling the nasty, dirty fantasy he’s having in his sleep. with a hand, it slips inside his shorts to squeeze the bulge, adding and removing pressure that mark straight up ruts into your hand.

“a..ahn… (y/n)…” he mumbles out, digging his face deeper into the pillow with a tense to his muscles, on edge like intense dance practices and when mark’s just striving to make you cum behind closed doors. right now, you smile to yourself with the tables turned, speeding up your hand. the covers are thrown off of you and you take the chance to see how much he’s making a mess through the underwear, hips shimmying out of the loose sweatpants to chase the tempting touch of your skin on his dick.

you’re so zoned in on the sight that you don’t realise mark’s already awoken, the scrunch on his face displaying the mix of immense pleasure and the annoying headache he’s feeling due to a hangover. like a vice, your hand tightens around his hardening cock that it draws a long moan out of him and you have to bite your lip from concealing your own. the other fists the bedsheets, finger tapping against the cotton; a habit you noticed he does when he's close.

"ack!" you exclaim when mark takes over, meeting his familiar dick as he fishes it out of his underwear, now fully rock hard with beads of pre-cum leaking from its tip. the idol wastes no time in forcing your mouth on him, smiling when it's thrusted so deep that it touches the back of your throat; you gag uncomfortably but recover rather quickly, humming around his length. the warmness of your mouth mimics your pussy so good, and mark can't help but continue the bucking of his hips.

it reminds mark of the countless many sessions he's had with you, hot and heavy in the recording studio as you fucked ruthlessly in the soundproof toilet. shivering and toe-curling on the vibrating washing machine, stimulating your clit while mark hit it from the back. maybe mark's checking off all the boxes, because the way your eyes look up at him at half-mast, desire swirling in your eyes, sinks him into a trance. the gentle whisper of sun rays paint your body like a renaissance painting, splayed over his legs and the remainder of the duvet covers. maybe this is the check box that marks the time where he lazily fucks into you as you struggle to hold in your moans, voice raspy from the morning.

likewise, the thought of mark's cock in you makes you shift uncomfortably, the wet patch on your underwear undeniably growing by the minute with your core pulsating and throbbing. his hands hold your head in place, fingers carding through your locks laced with possibly last night's drunken sweat. they pull back your hair, creating a small ponytail while you tease the tip with your tongue and lick a stripe up his shaft. the sounds you make with your mouth could rival the ones you're making with your fingers on your core, moaning the slurping up his pre-cum that has his length twitching.

"y-yes... oh fuuuck, (y/n)..." his head is thrown back as your bob your head, trailing your hands over his torso where you can feel the contraction and expansion of his ribs. it doesn't take long for mark to cum, hips halting its movements for a second to pump your mouth full of his seed. a smile breaks through when you cringe at the taste, but he's sure you don't mind it since you've done it many times before. "c'mere, angel."

the name makes you grin, getting off the comfort of his thighs to let him taste himself, indulging in a short kiss before mark takes the chance to tug at your shorts. he thumbs it down without effort, coming right off your bottom half as you manoeuvre from knee to knee to let the man take it off.

mark whistles lowly at how soaked you are, a lazy, boyish grin taking over his features as his fingers slip between your folds. they shamelessly leak more juices when mark's digits make contact with your clit, already clenching over cock that you haven't even received. slowly, they trickle down the expanse of his hand and your thighs, a lone string of arousal connecting from your cunt to the tip of his finger.

"so wet, so early in the morning," mark giggles, mirroring your earlier action as he prods at your mouth with those fingers. you taste yourself on him, suckling and licking around them like you just did to his length. "i'll fit right in, won't i?"

you make a noise of approval before grabbing his dick, inching it into you gently and gradually. mark bottoms out and you mewl, shivering at how deep he's in you without any effort before grinding down on him. the little tufts of hair on his skin brush against your sensitive spots near your folds that make the pleasure all the better, and you have to brace yourself with both hands on his chest.

"feel good, honey?" mark's found clarity in his voice now, voice dripping exactly like the pet name while you continued to get used to the seemingly growing erection in you. with eyes closed from both the pleasure and the increasing brightness of a new day, your hips move on their own accord, moving up and down his dick at a slow pace.

"'s good, mark," you babble, instantly speeding up your ministrations. his cock splits you open so good even if you aren't going at your usual pace, choking out mixes of moans and whimpers along with the sounds of your ass descending on his dick.

"you're so d-deep, mark! ooh, hhnn..." your arms are ready to give out, opting instead to lay on his chest with a small pound me leaving your lips. your arms go around him to clutch at the headboard, the sudden snap of mark's hips elicits a dramatic gasp from you. he's filling you up to the brim, and the groan in your ear shows the similar feeling that mark's experiencing.

mark takes your order to heart, the force of his hips continuing their assault on your poor, poor pussy so early in the morning. "babe, you're so- fucking- t-tight, holy shit!" a breathless laugh, a hand to your ass, butterfly kisses along your collarbone, everything else is forgotten except for those few things that dance around in your mind.

"faster, deeper, please...!"

his chuckle is interrupted by a groan, "i'm at my fastest, baby. i did go all out for our last concert yesterday."

the squelching sounds coming from between your legs make you cry out, drool dripping down the sides at your mouth as mark takes up more of your mind. mark, mark, mark falls from your lips repeatedly as he rocks in and out,

"you-" a soft, delirious giggle escapes you at mark's reference to the concert yesterday.

"no words, huh? maybe i should fuck you till you're babbling nonsense," the lack of response makes mark smile against your skin, mouth latching onto your neck.

with the little tap of his finger against your ass and the falter of his thrusts, you know he's close to reaching his peak. his sloppy movements still bring out the worst in you, either way, moans increasing tenfold as his cock continues to impale you. you hold onto his bicep for life, body rocking deliciously against his.

you're so warm, both inside and out, forehead already producing beads of sweat as your hot cavern clenches around his shaft repeatedly. mark pounds into your pussy relentlessly, brushing up against that spot that makes your body convulse before you're gushing and cumming around him, juices leaking non-stop onto the sheets while the knot continues to be undone.

"ahnn- mark! maaark..." the drawl of his name makes the other's eyes roll back in pleasure, not giving you the chance to recover as he pulls his cock out of you. there's an endless trail of profanities leaving his mouth while he pumps out the last bit of restraint out of him, finally letting go on his stomach when he looks at your spasming body, pussy dripping with both your juices.

his cock spurts out hot, white cum, staining his stomach before he lets out a satisfying whine and other breathless words that you can't catch on to. you swipe up his seed with your finger, dipping it into your mouth like dessert that you hum around it.

"i guess i won't need breakfast for a while," you joke, clenching your thighs together to prevent the further dirtying of your sheets. you did change it a week ago...

"ah. no no, don't close 'em," mark beckons you closer with his finger, "i won't need breakfast, either."

you know what's in store for you when the other licks his lips, a sick grin appearing on his face. and when you finally take your rightful place on his face, you find that you'll never get tired of mark's tongue laid flat against your soaking cunt, lapping all that you can offer that mark describes tastes like honey, like nectar. you tell him he's lying, but who are you to judge the words of someone who eats you out so good?

one day, you'll be convinced, but for now, you're fine with accepting the embarrassing compliments from mark, since he's the only one that makes your pussy flutter like a little slut.

(it's irl porn, please please don't click unless you're comfortable) how i imagine mark would fuck you <3

579 notes · View notes

bangtae-sohotddaeng · 3 years

Text

nugatory | p.jm. | drabble

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. taehyung)

rating: m (18+)

genre: smut | angst | college!au

summary: Park Jimin is many things. Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt. Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend. Park Jimin is a good friend. Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker. Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

warnings: swearing + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts in a car, fingering, penetrative sex) + possible allusions to some infidelity if you squint?

word count: 3.2 k

note: y’all. i couldn’t let butter!jimin keep ruining my life without acting out a bit, could i? this one started off as a pwp, but then i ended up combining it with a plot i had in my head for a while, and this turned into more plot and less porn, but. i’m okay with that, tbh. also! i’ve used one my older styles of writing (going back to 2016-ish) with this one. hope you all like it~ 🥺💜

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

Park Jimin is many things.

He is an astoundingly handsome, cheerful – and yet somehow mysterious – psychology major that you shared Freshman year's communications class with. He is the only rich kid among the majority on campus that doesn't flaunt his wealth to scholarship kids like you. He is kind, helpful, generous – did you mention handsome? – perfectly athletic and perfectly aesthetic.

Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt.

He is also someone that gets excited at the prospect of claw machines at fairs. He is also someone that looks at the universe with galaxies in his eyes. He is also someone that doesn’t realize he will always be more exquisite than any art his best friend might ever create.

Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend.

He is the guy that stood next to Kim Taehyung when Taehyung asked you to the Freshman dance. He is the guy that told you Kim Taehyung has the most gigantic crush on you. He is the guy that set you up on the first of your many dates with Kim Taehyung.

Park Jimin is a good friend.

Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker.

Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

"You really don't have to worry about me, Jimin," you mumble, eyes flickering all over his face – you always tend to drink him up the best you can, whenever you can. “I know I stupidly called you here, but I was just in shock. I’m okay, now. I’ll be fine.”

"No, I do have to worry." His fingers thread through his hair, your eyes hopelessly follow. "This was stupid and reckless of Tae. I'm sure he'll come back to his senses soon."

You blink. Jimin really has absolutely no grasp of this situation. But he obviously thinks he knows everything, which is making this conversation progressively difficult.

(His muscles bulging beneath his jeans and the t-shirt he wears are a contributing factor in making this conversation difficult, too, you won't lie.)

You breathe out, partly to collect your thoughts, and partly because you've been inhaling too much of his heady cologne and it’s making you think about—

Things.

It's making you think about things. That you should have no business thinking about. Because you and his best friend have been going on dates. The same best friend who is currently, as you speak, on a date with someone else. Alluding to the reason why you have called up Park Jimin to see you in a confused panic, after ten, at night, at your place.

"Taehyung – he, um. He didn't see us going anywhere. We'd been on nine dates, but… He said he didn't think I was actually as into him as he is into me. He didn't want to go on like that."

Jimin’s lips part. His brows hike up. You shrug, forcing your gaze away from the gloss on his lips.

“It’s been that way for a while. We were barely even texting. I think he has concluded that I don’t like him like that.”

Jimin rests his forearm on the steering wheel, almost leaning over the center console to catch your gaze. "Do you?"

His eyes pull you in like always and you're lost, just staring into their depths, as your mind ceases to think up thoughts that don't involve you and him naked and tangled up with each other in—

"Sweetheart?"

Your intake of breath is sharp, short and cold. Your insides are just as warm, turning everything in your head into incomprehensible mush. "Y–y–yeah?"

"Are you into Taehyung the way he is into you?" he whispers, and you follow the shape of his lips as they move. “Because you must know, he’s liked for a whole semester.”

You lick your lips, mindlessly nod, and then reach out with a finger to trace his cupid's bow. He doesn't pull away, he doesn't even flinch. "What do you think?"

His warm breath washes over your fingertip as you press it against his lower lip. His body jolts when your nail rims the plush cushion. "I… think he's my bestest friend in the world and he's basically in love with you…"

You shake your head, and your other hand travels past the console to grip his thigh. Your nails dig in. His breath catches. "He's on a date with someone else, as we're speaking."

"I just—he was so into you, I thought you'd be good for each other."

Past the cloud of, well, something incomprehensible, there is disappointment in Jimin's gaze. And that is how you know he means it. You shouldn't be surprised, really, because Park Jimin always means everything he does, he doesn't have a single conniving bone in his body, but you still are. Part of you has hoped against hope that he set you up with Taehyung to get closer to you, himself. Which – sounds like a really flawed plan and doesn't really make much sense, now that you think about it.

But you still hoped.

Now—

Now, though. Now you know otherwise.

"How can I be good for someone else when I have never even been good for me?" you don't know why you confessed to that, but the words just tumble out of you and you let them. "I'm a mess, Jimin," you whisper, accentuating your point by massaging his lower lip by your index finger. "I destroy people, and I nearly destroy myself in the process. I am an emotional and psychological train wreck. He's better off without me. Anybody would be better off without me."

Jimin grips your hand on his thigh with his own. “Not anybody,” he murmurs, and through his furrowed brows and muddled eyes, you catch an emotion you have been well acquainted with for years, now.

Longing.

Your heartbeat picks up as Jimin massages small circles on the back of your hand. You remove your other hand from his face.

“Yes, Jimin, anybody,” you say with conviction, even as you desperately hope for him to offer himself up as an alternative. “Everything is a wreck inside of my head. I can’t do relationships, I can’t even date someone without messing up.”

His pupils expand and his tongue flicks at his lower lip. His hand tightens in a grip on your other hand. His gorgeously bleached hair curl over the side of his head. "You don’t have to date, then.”

You scoff. “Taehyung would never go for—”

“I’m not talking about Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice comes out three octaves lower. “And you’re not talking about just anybody.”

You nearly stop breathing as he brings his free hand to your face, pushes a tendril of your hair behind your ear and traces a knuckle down the side of your face, your jaw, to hold your chin.

“You say you’re not good for you. Can you try to be good for me, then?" He pulls your face closer to his. “Would you let me save you from destroying yourself? Let me try to take care of the wreckage, hmm?”

Your body spasms when he reaches for the hand you’d retracted, pecks your finger before pulling it into his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth scrape and his eyes roll back as he sucks. He lets go with a pop.

Boy, would you let him take care of whatever he wants.

"Can you, sweetheart? Can you be good for me?" He sounds like he’s at the brink of something, just teetering on the edge, waiting for you to flick a finger before he free-falls.

Well. You’ve been teetering for years now.

"I want to be.” You don’t sound like yourself when you speak.

And you don't sound like yourself when he pulls you on top of him. You don’t sound like yourself when your back hits the wheel, your thighs cage his, your hands instinctively twirl in his hair, and –

Your core presses up against his length.

He's hard and straining against his tighter than sin jeans. You claw at his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, smooth motion — agile and rhythmic in everything he does.

You don’t feel like yourself when your eyes feast him. Because how could you ever get this lucky? How could you ever get to feel Park Jimin’s shirtless self beneath you? You had long since succumbed to your destiny of perishing in pining.

And yet, here you are.

You lean back to marvel at his toned, chiseled angles, you let your fingers smooth over every groove and crevice and line of sinew muscle you can reach. You trace his tight abdomen, nails scraping at the last of his eight-pack before veering towards his toned v-line. You shiver at the dark promises it leads to, looking up to meet his eye. And you shiver more when his feral gaze catches you.

Then he pulls you into a kiss and you're lost.

He tastes like stale coffee and breath mints and bad decisions –

He tastes delicious.

His tongue plunders your mouth, teeth bite into your lips—he pulls, pushes, drinks up, feasts. You throw your all into the kiss, meeting him in the middle with your tongue swirling with his, teeth latching on to suck at it. He groans into your mouth – all loud, and guttural and manly. And then he stops. Pulls away.

His wholly black eyes dig into yours. His lips are wet, swollen and bitten. You did that.

"You have to at least talk to him—"

"I have another important business to tend to, currently."

You grind against him and make your point. He bites down on his lip. His arms snake around your waist to cage you against him, he pulls you down on him.

You don't recognize yourself when you moan.

Your shirt is off, your shorts are pulled down and your panties are pushed to a side—

"You can never tell him." Park Jimin glides two fingers over your wetness, making a bigger mess of you. "Never."

You don't intend to, because what you do with Park Jimin in your apartment's parking lot at eleven pm on a Saturday night is nobody's business but yours.

His fingers part your entrance and slide in you abruptly, and you see stars. Your head tilts back on a long, drawn out moan, Jimin’s fingers picking up pace inside you. You rock on his hand, you claw at his arm, you desperately latch onto his shoulders and rest your forehead against his to ground yourself. He watches you with his half shuttered eyes threatening to eat you up whole.

His lips press into yours, tongue swiping through your mouth, curling up behind your teeth – it's messy, it's sloppy, it's the most arousing kiss of your life.

His lips drag down the column of your neck, tongue licking at the sweat droplets quickly gathering above your collarbones, his fingers curl inside you, his teeth latch onto your shoulder.

You explode under his thumb's press against your clit and sob into his neck when he drags its nail over the sensitive bud. “Jimin, Jimin, too much~ ah!”

He presses some buttons in his fancy car and his seat inclines. He pulls you to the backseat with him. “You okay?” he breathes on your face, hovering inches above you.

“Never been better,” you truthfully breathe back, heart coiling in your chest at the radiant grin he rewards you with in response.

A blast of hot air hits your forehead, your thighs and your shins. You jump, realizing he has turned some sort of hot air blower on. “For privacy,” he says, gesturing to the rapidly fogging windows, and then flicks a switch to make the air stop.

You both gaze at each other. Your eyes flicker all over his face to save every last bit of it to memory. You self-consciously swallow when you see him do the same. “Jimin…”

He leans down to sponge a kiss to your sternum, and then your hips buck into his as his tongue licks a path on the wells of your breasts peeking above your bra. A breathless moan leaves you when he scrapes his teeth over your cloth covered nipple.

You both pause for a moment, wide eyes locking in surprise.

And then you’re ravenous.

He strips you bare when you tug at his belt, and you rush to return the favor. You struggle with getting his boxers past his plump ass as he grips onto your flesh, peppering bites down your hips, squeezes your boobs, licks at your nipples—

You grip him, warm and heavy, and glide your thumb over the leaking tip. His head falls into your nape, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. “Jimin, ple~ase,” you moan.

He plucks out a golden foil from his wallet, meeting your eyes as he tears the packet and rolls the condom onto himself.

Your hands are pinned next to your head in a flash, his tongue teases your pulse point, teeth toy with your earlobe, and you writhe in want under him, eyes watering at the sweet torture.

And then he fills you up with a single thrust.

You freeze on a gasp.

His hair hangs over his eyes, irises lost to the lust storming in his pupils, his mouth gapes open, his chest is heaving.

“You good?” His voice is deeper than the ocean.

You've never been more turned on in your life.

He hisses at your frantic nod. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, oh my God, Jimin, move—”

He thrusts into you at an unforgiving pace. Your whole world literally tilts off its axis as he meets that spot inside of you, and your body wrings beneath him, twisting up to hold onto some buoy to ground you, but he is unrelenting even as you grip at his neck — his teeth encase his lower lip, brows furrow and eyelids flutter as he drives deep into you.

You groan at the sight, moving your hips to meet him. You rock with him, never catching your breath, and your nails just dig dig dig into his meaty back, drawing patterns all over the smooth, delicious surface.

Your release closes in on you, and you chase it with your mouth clamping onto Jimin’s neck, your eyes screwed shut as you groan into his skin, until—

He draws back, standing on his knees above you like goddamn Adonis in this goddamn huge SUV of his, and the sight of sweat droplets trailing down his neck, framing his pecs and racing down his tight abs has your whine of protest dying in your throat as you gawk. His lips are parted as he breathes, a couple of sweat soaked hair strands sticking to his brow, and his eyes —

Oh God, his eyes have an animalistic gleam in them as he hooks his arms beneath your knees, and drags your hips to him.

You cry out when he enters you at this angle, every thrust pushing at what feels like your cervix, and the pleasure is so blinding it's almost painful. One of his hands maneuvers to your center, a finger rubbing at your clit, and you yelp out a distorted version of his name, completely unwarned when waves over waves of hot, sweet, toe curling climax crash into you.

Jimin chases you into completion, his broken moan of your name filtering to you through the post-orgasmic buzzing in your head. His lips connect with yours as he relaxes your legs. You both pant into each other's mouth after two, lethargic, sticky kisses.

Your sweaty bodies make a disgusting sound when you detach, and both of you scowl together, laughing when you catch each other’s expressions. You sit up on jelly legs, barely able to sit on your ass when your sensitive center protests.

You both dress up in silence, although you don’t feel it to be awkward in the least.

You’re still mulling over how to frame in words what you have felt for him for nearly three years, how to tell him and even what to tell him when you’re such a relationship-phobe, when Jimin releases a long sigh.

You look up in surprise. That was not a contented sound. It was one of… was it defeat?

Jimin looks at you with a serious face.

Your heart plummets.

One of the many things that make up Park Jimin is also his brutal morality. And right now, you can see it in his face that he thinks he’s done something wrong. Your shoulders hunch up in subconscious defense — you will not say a word, you decide.

“Taehyung is my best friend in this entire world,” he begins, stomping firmly on any remaining embers of hope left in your chest. “He can never, ever, ever know this happened, okay?”

You give a numb nod.

“I’m sure he’ll come back around and try to talk to you again. If that happens, don’t feel like you owe me anything, okay?”

You look up to find Jimin’s eyes searching your face. He looks so soft and grave and sad, that it hurts to look at him. You look down and nod again.

“I — I feel like you two will happen, you know, when the time is finally right.” His words sound stiff. Practiced, even. “Don’t let this come in the way of that.”

Even though you decided you wouldn’t say anything, your mouth is nearly bubbling with too much to say, at this point. You take a deep breath. “And what if he doesn’t come back. What then, Jimin?”

Jimin looks at you with wide, clueless eyes. “He…will. At some point.”

“And what about until he comes back? Am I expected to wait around?”

Something crumples in his expressions. “No, of course not. You can do whatever you want. Even after he comes back, you don’t owe anybody anything.”

“Whatever I want, you say?” you ask him quietly, your heart thudding in your throat.

Jimin swallows, obviously catching on. “I mean…I guess?”

“You guess?”

He licks his lips and his gaze zeroes in on yours. “Whatever you want, yes. Certainly.”

“Great.” You take his acquiescence for what it is, and grab his wrist. “Okay, then. Until he comes back, right?”

Jimin nods, haltingly, gaze switching between your hand and your eyes. “Right.”

You feign a smile you don’t actually feel because something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This boy, you realize, deserves a lot more than being someone’s dirty little secret. He is Park Jimin, after all, a guy that is so many things that you could never run out of listing them and—

Park Jimin is a gorgeous celestial metaphor in himself.

Because he may look at the universe with galaxies in his eyes, but he is your only galaxy, and all your stars shine at you through him when he smiles.

Park Jimin is many things — but he is not the guy you want to just casually fuck.

But your pathetic self would take anything he would allow.

And so you pull his hand and stumble out of his SUV, sharing shy glances with him as you pull him with you up the stairs, all the way to your dorms.

Park Jimin is many things—

To you.

nugatory (adj.) – worth nothing or of little value.

#bangtanarmynet #thebtstown #ksmutclub #clubjimin #bts smut #jimin smut #bts angst #jimin angst #bts jimin #park jimin #bts imagine #jimin imagine #*mine #f: nugatory

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

I got a whole 4 hours of sleep today and have to pull a 12 hour shift. So I apologize if it doesn’t make sense, I am new to the Bucky fandom!

I like the idea of his grumpy, refusing to let anyone in, be slowly ground down by reader, but teeters back and forth until reader is in some sort of trouble. Then the flood gates of vulnerability open because he was worried about them. I mean he hasn’t been with anyone since the 40s right? Would he still know how to navigate caring about someone in that way? I don’t know. It was something that has been buzzing around in my head for a week.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: langauge, vague description of sex (minors dni!)

BUCKY MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You’d started out as neighbors - nothing more and nothing less.

Neighbors turned into causal acquaintances, fueled by your constant baking and copious amounts of goodies. Casual acquaintances turned into friends that would spend an occasional evening watching television together. Friends quickly turned into best friends that became utterly inseparable....with the occasional hook-up. You were hesitant to call it friends with benefits because that just sounded so crass. It was more like best friends with the occasional stress relief.

Stress relief. Sure that worked.

None that you wouldn’t have minded more of course. But you weren’t about to make a move on James Buchanan Barnes and ask him out on a date. No, you knew your place and his. He was physically akin to a god, mixed in with a bit of fuck boy, and yet...you loved him. You’d fallen hard and fast for the man that had gone from a mere stranger to a welcome and comfortable part of your life. But you’d never tell him that.

No, nope, hell no. Bucky surely didn’t reciprocate your feelings and you’d never been the type to make a move first.

Besides that...Bucky didn’t exactly strike you as a relationship type of guy. You’d seen him here and there with a girl or two, but it wasn’t anything serious. And since the two of you had started hooking up, you’d never noticed anyone else. And you hadn’t been with anyone else either. It was akin to a non-exclusive exclusive not-really-a-relationship relationship. Neither of you pushed it any further - you both accepted dates here and there but they never amounted to anything. Wonder why?

Unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t that Bucky didn’t want a relationship - he did. He did very much with you. But he just...there was something about being a one hundred and six year-old man that just left him confused and worried. He hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to date much and now that he had the time it reminded him of just how different things were. Dating was this weird confused jumble, but you were a clear and obvious bright spot. He had his doubts that you’d ever want anything more from him. He knew what he was - a mostly stable old man with a body that people seemed to enjoy. He made the most of that - it didn’t seem like people were interested in getting to know him much these days.

But you did - you always did. And, gods, he’d fallen hard for you - the kind of love that makes your stomach churn and heart feel like bursting and steals your breath away no matter how long it’s been. But what the fuck would you want with him? He’s a fossil with a boatload of mental trauma and even more sass and attitude.

You deserved the world and he only had himself to give. Of course, he was enough - way more than enough - but he didn't believe that.

There had been numerous occasions when you'd tried to be honest, to confess your true feelings, but you'd always managed to fall short. Every time you got close, something came up. And after the last girl you'd seen him with, you vowed to take your secret to the grave.

You had come close though - so close - especially the last time you'd hooked up.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were under Bucky, both of you naked and panting as you quickly approached your highs. He was buried deep inside you, head dropped to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nipping and biting at the delicate skin.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist in order to hold him close. One of your hands was laced together with his while the other was wrapped around his neck. There was something so perfectly harmonious about how you always were together.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, James, James, James as he kept going. It was the only time you called him anything but Bucky. As your vision had grown hazy and you felt that familiar warm start to blood your veins, you’d let your true feelings slip. It was so easy, so effortless and in the moment it just...happened.

I love you.

The declaration hung in the air as you felt your walls clamp around him and he reached his own eyes. That’s when you’d realized what you’d done. This time it was an entirely different sensation radiating throughout your bones - terror. Utter terror.

But if Bucky had heard your three little words he made no mention of them. Relief washed over you as you came to the conclusion that he was just as wrapped up in his own blissful haze that he simply hadn’t heard you. You were safe this time - but you’d have to be extra cautious from here on out.

Oh, but Bucky had heard you. Loudly and clearly. He chose to ignore your words because he was positive that he hadn’t heard you incorrectly. Surely you hadn’t meant to say that - and more importantly, it was a mistake. As much as he loved hearing those words from your pretty lips, he knew it was either an accident or a figment of his imagination.

You both pretended that nothing had happened.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky rolled his eyes lightly as he watched his phone light up with a call from Sam. He was half tempted to ignore it but decided to answer anyway; he was bored and the call might lead to something to do. You’d normally be hanging out with him on a Friday night, but his calls and texts had gone unanswered.

“Hey man,” Bucky picked up the call and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer, “what’s up?”

“You need to get to the hospital,” Sam was speaking so quickly that it all came out in a single slew of words as Bucky’s brows knitted together.

“I know I don’t have a lot going on this Friday night, but I think I’m okay,” he snorted as he opened the bottle and took a swig.

“No, no, no,” Sam interrupted by almost whispering your name, “there’s been an accident. She was hurt and taken to the ER. I was on the phone with her when it happened - just come. Now.”

Bucky didn’t even wait for Sam to finish before he dropped the beer and ran out the door. His whole body felt like it was growing numb and the only thing on his mind was you. You couldn't be hurt...you just couldn’t. Bucky couldn’t imagine any sort of reality in which you weren’t there.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as he ran into the hospital, seeking out the emergency room, he was asking about you. He looked probably just as crazy as he felt as he was nervously directed to your room. He almost jogged down the hall and into your small space. Sam stood at the end of your bed, looking down at you with a concerned expression.

“What the hell happened?” Bucky could barely bring himself to look at you as you laid on the small bed, looking so helpless and fragile. You were sleeping, sedated from lots of heavy drugs, but hooked up to several beeping machines. Your arm was in a cast already, bruises and contusions and cuts littered every bit of your skin that he could see. His heart plummeted into his stomach.

“She was crossing the street and got hit by a car that didn’t slow down enough in time,” Sam’s heavy was heavy as he rubbed at his tired, “I heard it all happen, Buck. It was terrible - but she’s strong. She’s going to be okay. No internal damage, luckily, but she’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while. The arm’s broken.”

“Jesus,” Bucky sighed as Sam nodded.

“I called her parents and they’ll be here soon. She’s just sleeping but hopefully will wake up soon.”

“Okay,” Bucky took a hesitant step closer.

“She asked for you,” Sam hadn’t been sure if he should have confessed that little part or not, “when they were bringing her in. Kept repeating your name. You should just tell her, you know. She’s obvious she feels the same. Don’t be idiots.”

“Thanks,” Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically as the two men shared a quick laugh before Sam hugged him, “I’ll stay here if you want to go. You’ve done a lot already. Thank you for calling me.”

“I got you man,” Sam gave him a half smile, “call me if you need anything at all...or if anything happens.”

“Goodbye.”

As soon as his friend left, Bucky came over to you, his fingers grazing the side of the small, horrid looking bed. He was going to help you however you needed it for however long it would take till you were better and out of pain. If he had the choice, he wouldn’t ever leave your side again.

This whole time he’d been so dumb, so silly. He should have just told you how he left - a long time ago and gotten over himself. A heavy sigh escaped him as you pulled up the uncomfortable plastic chair and took a seat next to you.

He gently, ever so delicately reached for the hand that was in the cast and held it in his. It almost made him laugh with how much smaller your hand was than his. They fit perfectly together.

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept, wondering when you’d wake up. He hoped soon - so he could finally tell you all of those unspoken words.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“James?” a croaky, dry voice met his ears as his tired eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision before focusing on you. You were looking back at him with a tired, sleepy little smile on your features. You looked beautiful, so damn beautiful, despite the blues and purples painting your skin, “what are you doing here?”

He must have fallen asleep at some point during the night. He was still holding your hand. He beamed back at you, “hi pretty girl. Sam called me and told me what happened. I came right over.”

“I’m anything but pretty right now,” you laughed lightly but quickly grimaced at the pain, “how long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday evening,” he confessed quickly, “I didn’t want to leave - wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh Bucky,” there was that saccharine little smile on your face. The same one he loved so much, “you didn’t have to. I...I really fucked up movie night, huh?”

“I’m in love with you.”

He finally got those damn words out before he could change his mind or think too much about it. Your face immediately lit up with a grin as you searched his cerulean eyes.

“Do you mean it?” you asked softly as he nodded, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks.

“Of course.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” you replied, giving his hand a tight squeeze, “I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he whispered as he leaned closer to you, “because I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl. Not now, not ever.”

“I don’t want you to, Bucky,” you promised, “I want you with me always.”

“That sounds perfect to me.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Marvel Taglist (add yourself to a taglist here!)(strike-through means I couldn’t tag you)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @hrtsgetbrkn @ironicfoxes @iilwjbb @cc13723things @thenormreedus @gooddaykate

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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1kook · 3 years

Text

card swiped (4)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.” GENRE romance (romcom?), eventual smut, teensy angst WARNING mentions of a hand job, talk of virginity OTHER college crushes, volleyball player!jk, student council president!oc, idiots to lovers, besties to lovers, childhood friends au RATING m (18+) bc brief sex ment WC 1.6k

NOTES (!) sorry for taking so long to update </3 school be kicking my ass. anyway here they are! an idiot couple. lmk what u think!!

[ masterlist ]

In the past, whenever something had bothered you, the first person you ran to was Jungkook. Low grades, fights with your parents, boy drama— as your best friend and number one confidant, Jungkook was always your first choice. He was always willing to lend you a shoulder to cry on, even if that meant staining his white t-shirts with streaks of your mascara. He was always ready to go beat up a mean boy who had hurt your feelings during lunch, even if he’d miss his favorite special. And he was always down for some good old fashion i hate my parents ranting, even if he adored your parents. He was a great listener, an even better best friend, and had rightfully won you over from a very young age.

That being said, how were you supposed to talk to Jungkook about something that bothered you when that something was him?

You could easily tell any of your numerous girl friends, those of which would probably understand your predicament better than Jungkook or any man ever could. But after years of vehemently denying any notion of a romantic relationship between the two of you, you get the feeling your call for help will be met with more unimpressed glares than actual assistance. Besides, as much as you bring up Jungkook, none of them really know Jungkook to truly offer you any worthwhile advice.

Your next option: Kim Taehyung. Now, Kim Taehyung held a similar background as Jungkook (translation: he also went to the same high school as you). He knows both you and Jungkook—frankly, more than you’d like him to—so he would be able to dissect the issue easily and offer trustworthy advice. The problem with Kim Taehyung, however, is that aside from knowing you at your embarrassingly dorky teenage prime, he doesn’t know how to keep a secret. Anything he knows, Jungkook knows. So if you were to, hypothetically, ask Taehyung for advice on Jungkook, well. Chances are, you’d probably get a rather confused text from Jungkook two minutes later.

Which leaves you with one option— Park Jimin. There’s a reason Park Jimin isn’t your first option, and that reason presents itself now as you glare at him from across the empty room. For as long as you’ve been in university, Jimin has always lingered around the student council meetings, giving everyone he sees the prettiest, meanest stink-eye. You suspect it’s because he waits around for Min Yoongi, your Vice President (which isn’t an issue; Jungkook also frequents student council meetings while waiting for you), and doesn’t really care for anyone else. Your problem with Jimin doesn’t lie there but rather with the fact he’s adamant on taking up space and not lending so much as a finger to help.

Today he is sitting with his feet on the table, dirty volleyball bag tossed on the floor. He’s watched you for the last fifteen minutes wrestle with the broken copy machine and hasn’t said a word since. He pretends he doesn’t see you struggling, because if he does, he’d be obligated to help you.

To summarize, Park Jimin may be the fastest libero your university’s volleyball team has seen in years, but he’s a good-for-nothing bum everywhere else.

And despite all that, he’s your best choice. There’s no one quite as blunt and honest as Park Jimin. There’s no one in this world who truly doesn’t care enough about anyone’s problems to gossip about them as Park Jimin. You plop down beside him, rumpled papers in hand. Without warning, you jump straight into it. “Jungkook is going to take my virginity,” you announce, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. If any of your fellow student council members heard you, you’re certain you’d shrivel up and die.

Jimin hums. “That’s nice.” His eyes don’t leave his phone, thumb hovering over his screen. It’s a testament to how much he truly does not care. His extended silence plants a seed of doubt in you— was this the right person to tell? you begin to worry. But after a beat, Jimin’s thumb taps against his screen and he says, “Jungkook is a virgin.”

You clench your jaw. “I know.”

The thing about Jimin is, with the right wording, you can get him interested in something. Not interested enough to genuinely care, but interested enough to at least listen and offer his own piece of straightforward advice. His thumb comes to a standstill over his phone, eyes momentarily going blank. It’s a minute gesture, one that’s taken you four years of paying attention to catch. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “Really,” Jimin sighs, back to, you now realize, playing CandyCrush on his phone. “You’re gonna let a virgin take your virginity.”

Not a question, but you nod anyway. “Yup.”

There’s sweat building on the back of your neck, nerves at an all time high, but you’re trying to play it off. Just a little bit more and you know you’ll have caught him. Beside you, Jimin’s jaw twitches.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of trying to act calm, Jimin clicks his phone off and turns to you. He’s as intimidating as ever, ash blonde hair pushed back today to reveal his forehead and dark eyes. “You’ve known Jungkook was a virgin this whole time?” he asks, has this calculating look in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re being questioned by an officer of the law and not the shortest person on the volleyball team.

With a practiced air of nonchalance, you shrug. “I have,” you confess, and it’s the truth.

While you may have been initially fooled that night two years ago, you weren’t that oblivious. Oh, you knew clear as day that Jeon Jungkook was still a virgin, just as well as you knew that he religiously washed his sheets every weekend or that he had a specific color coded system for his underwear drawer. Jungkook was a fool to try and lie to you, not only because you had found out, but because you had found out that very next morning.

It had been subtle. The night at the party, you had watched on with a throbbing heartache as some pretty girl led Jungkook up a set of stairs, had barely fought off a wave of emotion when he returned twenty minutes later, his hair a rumpled mess. “Did you… ?” you had mumbled, pressed closely against him by the back door. Your eyes had been glassy, from your emotions and from the drunken stupor you had gotten yourself into while he was away, wondering what he was doing. A sense of jealousy you would never admit to had curled around your heart. His hand had landed on your hip then. He smelled like flowers and vanilla, a smell unlike his own. Your heart clenched, hand mindlessly reaching up to cup his jaw, so drunk and heartbroken, you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing your fingers along his pretty cheekbones.

Jungkook had graced you with a simple nod, and then, “do you wanna leave now?”

You’d left, stumbling down Greek road on your way back to his dorm. Jungkook had held your hand the whole way, tucked you into his twin bed, and then promptly knocked out on the floor between his and Taehyung’s beds. The latter was nowhere to be found, wouldn’t appear until the next morning when he’d accidentally step on Jungkook’s ankle and wake both of you up.

Jungkook had yelped, and your eyes had fluttered open. You remember debating rolling over, checking on him like you wanted to, but Taehyung was already there doing just that. So you had laid still instead, listened as the two boys clattered around the room. They chatted mindlessly, about the party and tomorrow’s practice. Taehyung had been bragging about some girl he’d slept with last night. “What about you?” he had asked, and your breath caught in your throat. “Did you and…”—a pause, the distinct ruffle of fabric—“finally?”

“What— no,” Jungkook had said, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down on the edge beside you.

Taehyung pushed on with a snort. “Well, did you get lucky at all?”

Jungkook groaned, placed one warm hand on your back soothingly. You tried your best to level out your breathing, relaxed your facial expression as you clung to the sound of his voice. “Just a handjob. Some girl I didn’t even know. Does that count?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, felt it beneath your fingertips when you fisted the sheets.

And that curt admission sat in the back of your mind everyday for two years.

You turn to Jimin. “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”

Jimin lets out a low whistle. “You’re smarter than I thought,” he grins, this conniving little smile that is a genuine cause for concern. “So you’re letting him think you don’t know?” You nod. Jimin’s smile grows. “My, my. If I had known you were this evil, maybe we would’ve hung out more.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not evil,” you insist, flicking him on the nose. Jimin huffs indignantly. “I think what he’s doing is sweet…” you confess, feel your entire body heat up as you recall that wide-eyed look Jungkook had given you just yesterday afternoon, your kiss print fresh on his cheek. “And, well,” you look down at your shoes. “I used to dream about him being my first.”

Jimin groans. “You two make me sick.”

#networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #bts #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jjk #mine

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Fated

Karl Heisenberg x Autistic, Sound-sensitive Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Noise sensitivity

Genre: Romance, Comfort

Summary: Not everyone could love a man like Heisenberg. But Y/N isn’t everyone, nor is she just anyone. She loves him as the whole package he is: murderous intentions, human experiments and all.

Requested by @phoenixofthevalley Hi dear! Here you go - the first fic I’ve ever written for Karl Heisenberg (first of many) and thank you so much for being my first ever Resident Evil 8 requester! Hope you enjoy the read! Feel free to correct me if I’ve described anything incorrectly or in an accidentally offensive manner. I have no intention of spreading hate or any type of misconception so I’d really appreciate the correction. Love, Vy ❤

Watching Karl get so excited over this grand plan of his - the destroying of Mother Miranda, his revenge - it all makes me feel uneasy. I can’t explain the feeling, mostly cause I’ve never felt it before, and I can’t quite describe it either. I don’t connect to people easily and I’ve always been told I’m the problem but I guess it took the right person to make me feel things I haven’t felt for no one else all my life.

“The weren’t worthy of your emotions, darling.“ Karl told me on one of the rare occasions when I opened up my mind to him. I felt his words wrap around me like a comforting embrace. For the first time in my life, I felt understood.

I think that’s what took me the longest to get used to - being understood, seen and validated. My opinions had never before been taken into account seriously, my personal boundaries were rarely respected by others and people always had a hard time dealing with how distant I can be. But what bothers me above all is how people refer to me as dramatic because of my sound sensitivity - something no one took seriously when I’d tell them about it.

Karl did though, surprising me to no end.

He respects that I like my personal space and prefer not being shown much affection, especially not physical. He understands that I have a hard time showing people affection myself. He goes out of his way to make sure I’m ok with whatever it is he’s doing, saying or suggesting. And I’m sure that if I were to ever tell someone about this, they wouldn’t believe me. That’s most definitely due to his rough exterior and intimidating appearance. Also probably because he comes off as downright selfish and rude when you first meet him, but getting to know him was a journey worth taking because I now know the real him. A trust me, his rough exterior and the softness of his true self have nothing in common. Although, he does claim that softness is only reserved for me.

With all that laid out, it’s completely understandable that I don’t want him going up against Mother Miranda. Thanks to Karl I’ve never had the displeasure of running into her, but I’ve heard countless stories of how powerful and downright terrifying that witch is. Bottom line: I don’t want Karl walking into something that’s the equivalent of suicide.

And I’ve finally decided to let him know exactly how I feel about it.

I’ve been sitting here, searching for my voice as I observe Karl in his deepest thinking space. He’s constantly in it, if you ask me - constantly thinking, looking for ways to make his innovations better, stronger, more powerful to add to his chances of victory against the sadistic ruler of this village. He was already at his desk when I walked in, hunched over dozens of drawings drawn with cut-edge precision yet in his mind they are probably not near good enough. In his mind, all he does is never good enough. He prides himself on this factory and what he’s produced thus far but he cannot stay proud of himself for very long, he constantly feels the need to better himself in order to remain worthy in his eyes. I wish I could change his mindset on those grounds but I know that my tries would be futile and pointless.

“Karl?“ I suddenly speak up, surprising both him and myself. I don’t know what I was thinking opening my mouth when I still have no idea how to go about this without making it seem like I don’t believe in him. That is in no way the case. I believe he can defeat her, if he cannot do it himself, his robo-army most certainly can. But I don’t want defeating her to cost him his life cause without him in mine I’m not sure what will be left of me.

He straightens up from where he’s been hunched over for the past God knows how many hours, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms as her turns to look at me, his sunglasses capturing the white neon light in the office as he does so.

“What is it, darling? Something wrong?“ he takes a step towards me as I stand up and go to approach him.

“Actually...“ Suddenly, that thing he keeps in a safety cell just below this room starts going off with that annoying loud sound it makes. It’s always disturbed me, ever since it came to exist which was not so long ago considering it’s been his latest project. It not only terrifies me but triggers my sound sensitivity as do most of the machines in this forsaken factory.

I close my eyes tightly shut as I cover my ears with my hands, praying for the sound to go away as soon as possible because I can’t take it. It almost makes me physically nauseous and gives me vertigo, bringing me to the brink of tears because of its loudness and intensity, like it’s drilling right into my brain.

I can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment the sound went away because when faced with such a pain-inducing experience, my senses tend to tune out while I still remain conscious, but when my hearing returns I the only thing I’m able to hear is a steady heartbeat and a steady breathing.

“It’s ok, darling. You’re ok.“ I hear Karl’s quiet whisper, giving me peace and coaxing me into opening my eyes.

When I do so, I come to realize why the rest of the world has gone quiet. Why I’m suddenly so flooded with comfort like no one is able to bring me. No one but him. One of my ears is pressed up to his chest while the other is covered by his warm hand which travels up to move a strand of hair from my face and put it behind my ear as he repeats his soothing words like a chant, slowly starting to let go of me out of fear that he’s crossing a line. He’s always so wary about that and I’ll forever be grateful to him for it.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?“ His hands gently cup my cheeks, tilting my head so I can look him in the eyes - directly in the eyes, for he has ridden himself of his glasses. I’ve found he does that often when around me - removes his glasses. I once asked him why that is but the answer he gave me was vague, all the while a small smile played on his face. Guess he’s a bigger secret-keeper than I primarily thought. It doesn’t bother me really, I know the only secrets he keeps are the ones that would be a hazard for my safety if he exposed me to them, so I allow him his secrets and I keep some of my own to myself. It’s only fair, after all.

I nod, blinking up at him, “Yes, I’m ok. But...“ Now or never, girl. Now or never. “But if you want me to be honest, I will be.”

He looks baffled by my answer but he doesn’t falter, quickly regaining his composure before he replies, “Of course, dear. I always want you to be honest with me. What’s on your mind, what’s bothering you?“

Now “I haven’t been really ok for a while now.” I take his hands in mine, removing them from my cheeks but holding them firmly between us - a gesture that surprises me just as much as it shocks him. Never have I felt the need to be so close to someone. It may be momentary and temporary, but I refuse to dwell on that as I push forward with my argument, “I haven’t been ok since you told me about your plane. The whole thing with Mother Miranda and all that...” Not the time to be leaving me, words. I started this, I’ll finish it. “Look, Karl, I know you and your army can bring that witch to her demise but...”

“But what, Y/N? Tell me.“ He encourages me softly, his hands subtly tightening their hold on mine as if to keep me grounded, remind me he’s listening closely to every word I’m saying. Like he always does.

“But what if it doesn’t go as planned?“ I blurt out, biting my bottom lip nervously. It makes me anxious, being so honest and emotionally exposed. That’s so rare for me I doubt I’ll ever get used to it, but that’s the only way I have at least a fragment of a chance of convincing Karl to drop this. “What if things go south and you end up killed or turned into a monster or something else?“

The concern on his face washes away when he hears my words, getting replaced by a soft, consoling smile. I quickly look away, feeling that confession on my part was quite odd. I feel out of place but not uncomfortable, I don’t know how to explain it. It almost feels like relief, like I’ve finally gotten a huge boulder off my chest and I can finally breathe properly. But I can’t, not until I hear his reply. That smile should probably tell me something but it doesn’t - I won’t believe anything until I hear it come out of his mouth with my own two ears.

“Oh Y/N, darling, you won’t lose me. Ever.“ His thumb swipes across my knuckles soothingly, drawing abstract patterns on the skin of the back of my hand, “You never need to worry about me, hun, I ain’t going anywhere. No one can take me away from you or you away from me. Anyone who dares to try, well, bad things will happen to ‘em.“ He chuckles, easing the tension enough for me to able to look up at him again. When our eyes meet again, I see something I can’t name nor describe. All I know is that what he’s telling me is genuine and comes, “I’ll always be here, by your side, Y/N. I will always be here to shield you from anything and anyone. Any rogue lycan or any loud sound, I’ll be there to prevent it from reaching you. Never forget that. Ok?“

That urge to be have him close takes over me again. I think that somewhere in the back of my mind I see a clock ticking down, counting down the numbered hours we have together before he inevitably carries out his plan. As scary as that is, I think I can do nothing but accept it.

And so, that’s exactly what I do.

Wrapping my arms around him tenderly, enveloping him in the first hug I’ve ever given him - probably the first hug anyone has given him - I accept our fate, silently hoping it changes somewhere along the lines.

“Ok.“

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 3 years

Text

A Period Drama

Summary: When that time of the month hits, Y/n wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget about the world. Lucky for her, Dean has other plans.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2.1K+

Warnings: Language, discussion of menstrual cycle

Author’s Note: I guess I'm emotional this cycle, who knew? Anyway, I wrote this because I wanted to die the other day, and imagining Dean's cuddles was the only way for me to get through it. This is a work of self-indulgence and therefore the Reader is a little less non-descript than I usually try to write, but that's what these things are for! Hope this helps my fellow menstruating people lie it did me xoxo Alex

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

A nagging sensation tugged on her strings of consciousness, bringing the sleeping huntress back to the world of the living. Her mind fought against waking, knowing not nearly enough time had passed since she had retreated to her room the previous evening. As the ache deep in her abdomen became more obvious, she stopped fighting and opened her eyes to the darkness of her room.

“Fuck,” she groaned as she tossed the covers from her body, instantly missing the heat they provided in the recess of the bunker. Y/n rolled from the bed and stood, the action occurring too quickly and the huntress felt the familiar rush between her legs. She cursed herself as she bounded off to the bathroom on the opposite end of the hallway. The socks on her feet muffled her hurried steps as she passed the boys’ rooms.

Once inside, she went straight for the showers and turned the hot water all the way up. Steam enveloped the space as she stripped her soiled panties and old t-shirt from her body. She let the bathroom turn into a makeshift sauna as she rinsed the blood from her undergarments before finally stepping into the boiling shower.

It was unclear how long she stood under the water, searing her flesh and scrubbing away the metaphorical grime, all she knew was the relentless heat was managing to ease the ache from her angry uterus. The tentative knock on the bathroom door snapped her back from the silent reverie she had been indulging in, and Y/n noted how the water had gone almost cold. It was likely she had been in there long enough for Sam to have taken his morning run and if her own body wasn’t attacking itself, she might have felt guilty about using up all the bunker’s hot water.

When she walked out in just a towel, her dirty pajamas rolled into a ball in her arms, she was met with a confused younger Winchester. All she could mutter was a weak ‘sorry’ before she breezed past him and back to her room. The huntress wrapped herself into a pair of sweats and a clean tee, braided her hair out of her face, swallowed a few pain killers, and crawled back under her covers. She thanked whatever higher power had made sure they were hunt-free for the foreseeable future so she could spend the day curled up in a ball. The pills kicked in quick enough to allow her to easily slip back into a blissful sleep.

****

It was nearing one in the afternoon when Dean made his way back inside the bunker, his hands covered in grease and oil from his work tuning up the Impala. He was wiping his hands on an equally dirty towel as he walked into the kitchen to find his little brother making himself a lunch.

“Please tell me that is not your veggie bacon?” Dean wrinkled his nose as he watched Sam putting together a BLT, the various ingredients strewn about the island.

“Fine, then I won’t tell you,” Sam didn’t bother to look up from his task to answer his brother. The look of disgust only depended on Dean’s face as he moved around his sibling to wash his hands in the sink.

The older hunter glanced over his shoulder as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder, his gaze landing on a disheveled Y/n. The sweats that hung from her body were wrinkled and she had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. There were lines across the left side of her face, indicating she had been sleeping recently. Worry instantly flooded his system as it was unlike their hunting partner to sleep this late unless she was ill.

“Sam, what did you do with my heating pad?” her voice was coarse as she didn’t even bother with pleasantries. No ‘hello’, no ‘ how are you’, just straight to whatever business she had in with the younger Winchester.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s in the linen closet in the bathroom?” Sam answered, completely unperturbed by her callousness.

“So you put my heating pad in the bathroom,” Y/n rolled her eyes and Sam could only offer her a bewildered nod. “What is with you guys and not being able to put shit back where you found it?” The huntress turned on her heel, not waiting for a response before heading to retrieve the item she was seeking.

Sam looked over his shoulder at his older brother, his brows knit together in the middle of his forehead. “What the hell was that?”

“What’s the one thing Y/n uses her heating pad for?” Dean’s lips cured up on one side as he watched the look of realization flash across his brother’s features. The oldest Winchester dried his hands before peeking in the fridge and a few cupboards. “Looks like she could use a supply run. You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m just going to retreat to my room and pretend like I don’t exist for the rest of the day,” Sam picked up the plate that held his lunch and scurried off, leaving a chuckling Dean behind.

****

The only light filling her room came from the laptop that was perched in her lap, playing some television show she had stopped paying attention to a while ago, and the filtered light from the hall through the slats in her door. The huntress was still curled into a ball under her covers, attempting to use what little bit of heat from her computer she could muster as she had been unsuccessful in located her heating pad. She felt bad for ripping into Sam about it, but the truth was he had misplaced her belongings, something that she found happened often around the Winchesters, and she was over it today. Pain tended to make her grumpy, as it did most people, and she wasn’t going to apologize for being pissed at their carelessness.

A soft rapping against her door had her pausing the show as she shoved the device aside. The guest didn’t wait for a response before they pushed the door open, bringing with them a flood of light. Y/n cringed at the sudden change, hiding her face behind her hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Dean’s familiar chuckle sounded before the click of the latch indicated he had closed the door behind him. “I come bearing gifts.”

“What?” she was confused by his words as she dropped her hand and allowed her eyes to adjust back to the relative darkness.

“Your water bottle, half ice, half water,” he set the green canteen on her bedside table. “The heating pad Sammy somehow managed to lose behind the washing machine,” Dean handed her the light green pad folded neatly with the cord sitting on top. Y/n sighed a breath of relief as the eldest Winchester continued. “And a sharable size bag of dark chocolate peanut M&M’s.”

“Dean,” Y/n caught the purple bag as he tossed it her way, biting back a gleeful moan. “I fucking love you.” She unceremoniously tore into the bag and popped a couple of the chocolate candies into her mouth, missing the rush of blood on the Winchester’s cheeks.

“And finally,” he mimicked a drum roll with his mouth and procured a box from his arms, placing it on her bedside table. The woman frowned, unable to make out the object at first in the darkness.

“You bought me tampons? How,” she trailed off, not only awestruck by the hunter’s gesture but amazed at his attention to detail as she read the label.

“There is only one thing you need your heating pad for,” he remarked as he took the referenced object back to plug it into an outlet for her. “Also, you never snap at Sammy.”

“But how did you know what kind to buy?”

“Kind of hard not to when you have a box of them stashed away in Baby’s trunk,” Dean countered as he perched himself on the edge of her bed.

“Hey, those are for emergencies. Besides, I’m sure Baby understands.”

“I’m sure she does.”

Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek as she fiddled with the bag of candy in her lap, the kindness shown by Dean throwing her off. She offered the open bag to her hunting partner, who snatched a handful for himself with a grin.

“Thank you, Dean, seriously. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” her voice was low as the admittance slipped past her lips. “Want to watch some Scooby-Doo with me? You know, if you aren’t busy or anything?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart,” Dean winked at her, that shit-eating grin never leaving his face even as he stood and shucked off his jacket and boots so he could climb into the bed next to her. “Who could pass up Daphne?”

The huntress sat back against the headboard with a roll of her eyes and switched the streaming show on her laptop before unfolding her already warmed heating pad and laid it across her lower abdomen. She moved the laptop at the end of the bed so they could both see it and set the bag of M&M’s between her and Dean to share.

The two settled into the cartoon, laughing in unison at the ridiculous parts and commenting on how the Scooby gang couldn’t have handled that monster had it been real. Three episodes passed by before a shredding cramp ripped through her stomach, the shock of it enough that she was unable to hide the groan as she had been so far.

“You okay?” Dean shifted in his spot next to her, his head turning from the kids’ show to his friend beside him.

“No, I’m not okay. It feels like my internal organs are attempting to exit my body,” she snapped, instantly regretting it when Dean subtly recoiled. “Shit, I’m sorry. I--I didn’t mean…” Y/n was cut off as the pain returned just as intense as it had been moments ago, causing her to roll onto her side and into a ball, clutching the heat of the pad against her body like a lifeline.

“Alright,” Dean huffed before moving the candy and laptop from the bed. Y/n could hear the hunter shift behind her, but her eyes were clamped shut as she tried to breathe through the pain like she was experiencing the contractions of labor of something. She felt the hard lines of his body lock around the curves of her own and his arm snake around her abdomen. His hand rested over hers as he pulled her tight against him, putting more pressure than she had been able to muster against her lower belly. “I’ve got you.”

The heat of his body on one side and the pad against her stomach, combined with the force he was exerting on her uterus, finally allowed her to relax fully for the first time since she had awoken that morning. She never wanted to leave this moment, utterly content in the peace that his presence in her bed brought her. The idea scared her a little, but she figured that was a problem for another day. Now she chose to just live in this moment for as long as he would let her.

“Why?” she muttered into the dark space after she was sure he had fallen asleep as his grip had relented a touch and his breathing evened out, hoping he wouldn’t answer but knowing she had to ask.

“Cause I wanted to,” his voice was gruff, indicating he had probably been on the cusp of falling asleep when she spoke up. “I hate seeing you like this. Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Dean Winchester, are you going soft on me?” she quirked up one corner of her lips, unable to fight the giddiness his words instilled in her chest.

“Sweetheart, there is nothing soft about me when I’m around you,” he chuckled, earning himself an elbow to the gut. He grunted and the two of them fell into a fit of laughter.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” The hunter was ready for her arm this time, his hand moving to wrap around her forearm and pull it into him so as to trap her even tighter than before in his embrace. Y/n struggled against his hold, giggling like an idiot as the two wrestled in the bed a moment before she relented that he was much stronger than she.

“Honestly,” Dean placed a gentle kiss to her shoulder once she had settled, only encouraging her to melt further into his arms. “I’d do anything to make you smile, Y/n.”

“Well, then mission accomplished, Winchester,” she turned her head to flash him a genuine smile to which he reciprocated before planting his pillow-soft lips against hers.

P.S. I didn't even try on this title because this is just a little therapy piece and therefore no one should judge me.

Forevers: @22sarah08 @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @anathewierdo @asgoodasdancingqueen @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deangirl93 @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @lunarmoon8 @lyarr24 @mishacollins4evah @miss-nerd95 @mrsjenniferwinchester @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93 @sleepylunarwolf @squirrelnotsam @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @suckmyapplejacks @supraveng @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @traceyaudette @tranquility-or-chaos @waywardbeanie @winchest09

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #spn fic #alex writes #mine #a period drama

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ticketstomydaydreams · 3 years

Text

HOME

(All We Have: Part One)

Part Two

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson are close friends and he invites you to move in to his house while you work on his record together

Word count: 1,580

Feels: Friendship Fluff for now

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of feeling depressed

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - Home

Sia - Dressed in Black

The Beatles - With a Little Help from My Friends

A/N: Throughout the series there will be changes to the timing of real life events like the pandemic, the release of certain songs etc. There's certain things I want to incorporate into the series, like particular events in MGKs life and lyrics from songs, so some stuff will get moved around to fit in to the story ✌️

______

It had been a long evening working in Colson’s home studio, The Boulevard, with him and the gang on the upcoming Tickets to my Downfall album. To say your schedule was busy was an understatement, but Colson had insisted you get involved with the new material after the success of your work together on Hotel Diablo.

Composing music was your main gig, you had an ear for melody and your passion for writing meant you always had lyrics swirling around your head. You had a penchant for dark and melancholy lyrics, finding music to be a source of therapy for you. It was something you and Colson had instantly bonded over. He'd bugged you to list some of the stuff you'd written that he'd know and you had gained his professional respect immediately.

He always kept a close eye on your work, ever the supportive friend and had laid claim to your piece ‘Glass House’ as soon as he'd heard it.

______

2019

You were sitting crossed legged on the sofa in your lounge, gently strumming your guitar and gazing off into space and mumbling to yourself, as you worked out some lyrics in your head. Colson was lying on the floor by your feet, scrolling through his phone with earphones in, a blunt in his hand that he occasionally passed up to you. This was a common set up, you found it easier to write in the peace and quiet and Colson has gradually started hanging out at your place more when he needed to focus on his own writing.

"All alone in the glass house, lie awake til the sun's out, pink sky when you come down…"

"Throw me in the damn flames, Bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames…"

You'd started singing out loud, occasionally stopping to scribble down lyrics and make adjustments, not noticing that Colson had removed his earbuds to listen to you

" Dude, that's hard, like, beautiful… " His comment made you jump slightly, you hadn't seen him propping himself up on his elbows, watching you intently "Sing that last bit again"

You blushed slightly, his opinion was always important to you, and started singing. He muttered to himself as you did, then pointed at you "Again!"

Letting out a little laugh and rolling your eyes, you sang again

"Throw me in the damn flames, bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames"

Colson's voice met yours at the end of the line, rapping softly "I'm waiting on the rain to come and wash it all away"

You locked eyes, smiling and he sat upright. "Dude, Im'a need that hook! That spoke to me right there, I've think got something for it that I've been stuck on"

He looked so excited, your heart did a little flip. You'd seen that writing this album had taken it out of him, he'd been digging deep and really going through it emotionally. You could tell it was going to be raw and special from what you'd heard already.

He sat forward and moved the guitar from your lap so he could lean his arms on your knees and looked up at you shooting you puppy dog eyes with those baby blues "Pretty please Y/N"

You laughed and ruffled his hair, "Anything for you Col" Honestly, it'd be an honour to be part of such a personal project, you thought

He wrapped his arms round you and squeezed,

"You're a legend, kid. Get a sample recorded and send it to me!" He grabbed your guitar off the sofa and whipped back around, strumming a few chords as he carried on talking with his back to you, leaning against the sofa "This is gonna be fire, you always just hit the nail on the head, I swear it's like you're in my head sometimes"

You smiled, seeing the wave of motivation that had struck your friend. You felt so lucky to have a friend who was not only so inspiring, but one who 'got it', who understood that music was a form of release. Someone who recognised that it was important to feel these things, rather than encourage you to push dark thoughts away with toxic positivity.

He’d pushed to use your original samples on his record, but as much as you loved writing and singing, you were a behind the scenes kind of gal which had always suited you just fine. Naomi, a mutual friend of you both, came onboard to record them with him. A decision that turned out to be golden… 'Death in my Pocket' would be born not long after, with Naomi doing your lyrics such beautiful justice yet again, perfectly pairing with Colson's emotional rapping.

______

From then on Colson had kept you close to his recording. You'd been helping here and there with composition and notation, but your production skills were what was taking centre stage during the most recent sessions. You had a long list of projects you were working through, leaving you chained to your equipment most days and nights anyway so throwing more music into your workload didn't seem like much of a big deal. In all honesty, the chaos of Colson’s studio and the revolving door of personalities that were in and out constantly, made it one of the most fun places to be. You loved what you did for a living and it never really felt like work Even though the guys were a real handful at times, you kind of enjoyed being the studio 'Mami' as they often affectionately referred to you

Everything had wrapped up for the evening and the guys had migrated back into the house. You could hear from the raucous that the drinks must have started flowing freely. You were saving your work and packing up your stuff when Colson bursts back into the studio and throws himself in a chair, spinning it around with his arms in the air.

"You staying for drinks Y/N?" he grins at you, clearly hyper and in party mode

You let out a big sigh "Urgh, I'd love to but I have an early start tomorrow. I finally managed to get an apartment viewing. I swear I've looked at a hundred places now, they get snapped up so quickly.. I've only got a few weeks left on my lease as well"

“Ah, that sucks kid” Colson empathises, spinning his chair again before an idea strikes him “Wait! Why don’t you move in here for a bit until you find a place? The guest room is pretty much your room anyway, the amount you crash here”

You laugh “This is true, that mattress is so much better than mine! Aw Col, that would honestly be so helpful, the stress of finding a place when I’m this busy is killing me. I don't know… You sure the guys won’t mind?”

Colson scoffs “Why would they mind? You practically live here anyway” he teases “I’m sure they’ll be just as stoked as I am at the thought of you joining the madhouse for a while”

Before you have a chance to respond, he stands up and throws his arms around you, squashing you into him tightly “That’s it decided Roomie. Another song in the bag and a new housemate, plenty to celebrate tonight!”

Wriggling out of his tight grasp, you laugh and in a deep voice shout “let’s goooooo” mocking his signature catchphrase. He flips you his middle finger and says “Kitchen, now”

Once you’re in the kitchen, Colson heads to get you a drink and grabs one himself. Appearing back at your side, he passes you your beer and then shouts out to the rest of the group,

“YO, meet our latest housemate, Y/N is moving in. LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO”

Everyone in the kitchen lets out a big cheer, clearly pleased as he said they would be. Colson bends down and picks you up, swinging you around in a circle, spilling your drinks all over the both of you as you shout his name in mock annoyance, between giggles.

“I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for” Rook laughs, clinking his drink against your now empty beer bottle once your feet are back on the floor

“It’ll be good to have another pair of hands around here, looking after you lot” Ashleigh chimes in, laughing and slapping Slim away as he pulls her hood up over her head, covering her eyes

It had been 5 years since you'd made the decision to move to LA, barely knowing a soul. You'd worked several jobs, jumped from place to place, worked your ass off to catch your break in the music business, sometimes feeling like the grind would never get you anywhere.

There had been times where you felt like you couldn't carry on, aching from trying to keep pace. The dream had felt like it was turning into a nightmare, as you tried to make ends meet, feeling so lonely in this enormous city.. but eventually you'd made these amazing friends who made you feel so safe and loved.

Now, there were times you had to pinch yourself just to make sure it was all real.

As you shake off some of the beer that's dripping from your hands, you look around the kitchen. Taking in the crazy, loveable bunch before you, your new housemates, you are filled with gratitude. You finally felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be…

Home.

______

❌❌ Lace up!

#mgk fluff #colson baker x reader #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly imagine #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson x reader #mgk fic #machine gun kelly #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #mgk fanfiction #colson baker

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kassandras-one-braincell · 3 years

Text

Abby Anderson x GN!Reader - Please Don’t Leave Me

Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Please Don’t Leave Me (I’m creative with my titles)

Can be found on AO3 here.

Setting: before Abby leaves to go golfing. Abby and the reader are in an established relationship.

Warning: angst angst angst, excessive usage of the f-bomb and discussions of murder.

(Y/N) replacer safe.

Word count: 1846

Fuck, she’s really doing this.

Every day since Isaac had granted the Salt Lake Crew leave to hunt down Joel Miller, you tried to bargain with Abby, tried to make her see some sense. That killing him won’t take away any of the pain she feels. The grief. The gaping hole in her heart. But she’d always brush you off, distancing herself from you, suppressing her emotions with bicep curls and crunches as per habit.

Each passing hour, a nail was hammered into the coffin of the woman you love. And this morning is the final nail.

The quaint apartment you call home is filled with a cacophony of rustling and pleas as Abby shovels supplies into her backpack, preparing for her hunt. In her mind, Joel’s death warrant is signed, the execution nigh. And God are you desperate, trying to drill some semblance of reality into her stubborn mind one last time before she embarks on a journey she’ll only regret.

“Abby, please just listen to me for one minute—”

“I need to do this.” She heads to your small shared closet, refusing to look at you from your position by the bed. You frantically try to intercept her path, knowing full well she’s much, much stronger and can reposition you with ease. But it’s worth a try.

“This isn’t going to solve anything,” you implore, clutching the wood.

“Move, (Y/N).”

“Abby, this isn’t going to bring him back. You know that.”

“Move.” Her tone is exasperated, utterly focused on packing her shit and promptly leaving. Your heart sinks to your stomach.

“That girl in the hospital. The immune one. She must have been like a daughter to him for Joel to kill a group of innocent people for her,” you plead, feet firmly planted on the floor. Searching for her eyes, those blue irises alight with a maelstrom of hateful determination. They meet yours. “Killing him will just put her through all of this.”

Abby reaches for the closet door and slowly pulls it open, acknowledging your reluctance to move, deciding to disregard it. The wood begins to dig into your back and you’re forced to step aside. “This isn’t going to end, Abby. You fucking know this.” As she folds some spare clothes and places them in her backpack, you fall gracelessly to the bed, needing to sit down. Bile climbs up your oesophagus. Shit, where was her sense of fucking empathy?

“Abby…” Once again, she doesn’t so much as spare you a glance, folding the garments in robotic fashion. “Abby, you said she was a kid. A kid.”

The final shirt is stuffed haphazardly into the bag. She grits her teeth and turns to you. “He killed dozens of Fireflies, (Y/N). Dozens. And that’s all we fucking know of. There could be hundreds of others because he’s a stone cold killer.” Her face flushes with anger, no remnants of the woman you know left behind. “No one person is worth that many fucking lives.”

You let out a breathy laugh in sheer disbelief. “But it’s not about them, is it? Not to you.” The words escaped you in a hiss, one that didn’t go unnoticed. “Never fuckin’ has been.”

Abby rolls her eyes and grabs her maps from the coffee table, iron fist crumpling the papers beyond legibility. “There could have been a cure. A fucking cure to all this.”

On the surface, her words are rational. One life for a cure that would save millions was a worthy sacrifice, that you would be foolish to deny. But the odds of developing this cure were slim, and the girl would have likely died in vain. You knew this. Abby knew this. Jerry knew this.

With a shaky breath, you cradle your arms, never before having felt the urge to cage yourself around Abby. Fingers firmly gripping at your elbows, you let the cards fold. Unadulterated truth.

“You’re in denial, Abigail.”

A tut. “Don’t you fucking ‘Abigail’ me.” Her previous efforts to maintain a steady tone have been vanquished, anger seeping into each progressing word.

She’s gone.

And it’s this precise revelation that fills your eyes with oceans. Throat closing up, nose burning with the urge to spill over, you attempt – attempt – to articulate yourself, to no avail. Seconds later, rivulets trickle from your eyes to your cheeks, and you find yourself sniffling like some stupid kid… No, not a kid. A grieving adult, bereaved by the loss of a lover. Because the other figure in the room is but a husk of the radiant soul you fell for.

“All…” You pause to inhale, deeply: a futile effort to regulate your breathing, to lay rest to the turmoil suffocating your ability to fucking think. “All that’s going to happen is… You’re going to have to—” Hiccupping, you close your eyes, praying no more tears would fall. “To live with the guilt of orphaning a kid.”

Sentence finally out, you surrender to your sorrows, allowing them to wrack your chest with sobs and heaves until it gets too much, salt freely spilling from the floodgates. You can’t…you won’t bring yourself to look at Abby – the machine in her place, one programmed to kill and kill alone.

It’s wholly terrifying.

Distress flickers in her eyes, her frown slackening for a fraction of a second at the sound of your despair. “No one is forcing you to come,” she puts plainly, as if that has anything to do with the issue at hand.

“You know this – isn’t about that. Fuck, even Owen knows this…this is a bad idea.” Too dejected to cry. Too dejected to battle the hitched breaths you take trying to force out the words.

Words that fall upon deaf ears. “That’s not what Owen told me.” She slots a Swiss army knife into her cargo pants’ pocket, headed with a canteen in hand towards the kitchenette. “He was there, (Y/N). He agreed that Joel needs to die.”

“Because he’s fucking scared of you!” We all are, nearly breaks free from your lips, but that’s not what Abby needs to hear right now. Nothing that will push her away. Further away. The reigns you have on your lover are fraying, leaving you grasping at nought but strings. Frenzied, you attempt a softer, less concrete approach. “Baby, it isn’t normal to be so…hellbent on revenge like this.”

Silence. The delicate trickle of water sounds from the faucet as Abby fills her canteen. Then, a sigh, one of frustration as opposed to defeat. “If you think calling me ‘baby’ is going to erase four motherfucking years of grief, you are sorely mistaken. You’re smarter than that.”

Patience thinning, you stand up, wading through strewn supplies across the apartment floor towards the kitchenette. “Four years and you still haven’t given yourself time to mourn properly,” you reason, deliberately obstructing her path out of the kitchen with your body again. “Maybe if you had you’d see some fucking sense.”

God, that was a mistake. Shit, shit, shit shit shit the last thing you want to do is piss her off, not with her mind in such a volatile state, devoid of all logic.

“I appreciate you’ve lived a fucking sheltered life since the outbreak,” she seethed. What?

“That’s not true—”

“And you have no fucking idea what it’s like to have someone ripped away from you like that.” Volume rising, words a mantra fuelled by detest. “And you know, maybe, just fucking maybe, this’ll be my one chance to put an end to this shit!” The fist not clutching her backpack clenches. And for the first time ever while alone in her company, you flinch.

“He fucking deserves this, (Y/N)! If I can show him a fraction of the pain he caused me—”

“Abby, you’re scaring me,” you whimper, closing in on yourself. Genuinely afraid she’d raise her hand towards you.

Had you a mirror, you’d know truly how perturbed you look in this very moment. Streamlines drying on your cheeks, eyes reddening and puffy from crying, wide with fear like a doe face-to-face with a moving car. Body subconsciously making itself smaller, reducing its surface area, reducing the likelihood for any incoming swings to hit.

She lowers her guard, colour returning to her knuckles as she unravelled her fist. Knitted brows returning to their natural place above her eyes, mouth parted as the horror of her behaviour settles in.

“You know I would never hurt you, right?” Even her previously stern voice cracks at this.

It takes tremendous willpower to not fall back as she takes a tentative step towards you.

Drying your eyes with your sleeves – her sleeves…you forgot you’re wearing her old sweater, the notion sour on your tongue – you break your mutual gaze. “You’re not you right now,” you whisper, not trusting your larynx to produce anything above a mouse’s squeak. “This isn’t the Abby I know.”

For the first time this morning, a sentiment other than bloodlust registers in her face. Hurt.

Either unable or unwilling to respond, Abby recommences her packing in solemn silence.

Shit, you have three, perchance five minutes at best to dissuade your girlfriend from leaving and doing something that will haunt her for all eternity. Yet all you can do is brace yourself against the wall and allow a second tsunami of tears to wash over you, pangs of anguish striking your heart. “Abby—”

“I’m going, (Y/N).” Firm, with a shred less conviction, but firm enough.

A violent sob tears through you as you beg, beg, the vessel of the woman you adore, “Please don’t leave me.”

For a fleeting moment, your heart stops as she hesitates in her tracks. A flicker of hope seizes your mind, that perhaps she has reconsidered, that finally some logic has entered her train of thought.

It all crashes down when she reaches for the spare rifle ammunition by the front door.

“Fuck, Abby—”

“I’ll be gone a month at most.”

Hail-Mary.

Please.

Chest shuddering with each sob that wracks through you, you utter through violently trembling lips and hiccups, “You’re so – fucking blinded – by your hatred – right now – that you can’t – fuck, see – this will – kill you—”

The gravity of the situation threatens to make your knees buckle.

Abby plucks her jacket from the coat hanger and wades over to your crippled stance by the kitchen. A hand brushes your salt-slicked cheek as a lock of hair is swept out of your line of sight. “I love you,” she whispers in pained honesty.

“Abby…” You try to take her hand, to ground her, to remind her of the life she’s leaving behind on her relentless pursuit of this warped sense of justice.

“Goodbye, (Y/N).” She squeezes your palm and lets go, zipping up her pack as the front door to the apartment creaks open and slams shut.

Death is a word that isn’t used lightly, especially not after an epidemic takes the world by storm. But part of your spirit certainly died the moment that door closed behind her.

(I’ll leave it up to you whether she has a change of heart or leaves and scores a few hits above par.)

#abby anderson x reader #im sorry :(#abby tlou #angst #bad things happen bingo

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Text

Da Capo

Dialogue Prompt 16- " because I love you, is that what you wanted to hear " requested by @sunflowerishdolphin ( your last remaining request ) | TW- NONE |

Da Capo-(Italian: from the beginning); at the end of a piece of music or a section of it, means that it should be played or sung again from the beginning.

He shut the door behind him, locking immediately, putting those grocery bags on the counter and turned on the voice Machine , picking up the mails from the corner table reading who addressed them as he simultaneously heard the voice messages like his usual evening, a routine that had became a practice.

" you have 2 new messages "

" hey harry, this is Clint. Send me those pictures via e-mail, could you ? Call me when you get back "

Harry subconsciously nodded as he read the next mail addressed from the burrow.

" harry "

He stopped dead in his movements as he stared at the tiles on the floor, hearing that very familiar voice.

" I- I know I should not- you know- never mind. Uh, call me or not, whatever. Just- how do you end this-" the voice message echoed with rustling until it ended with a beep and harry couldn't bring himself to stop the beeping.

When one of the apple fell down over the ground creating a thud, harry broke free from his locked moment of strangeness and shut off the beep. He stared at the number long enough to remember his past, the horrors, the pain, the anguish, the agony of it all but he couldn't resist himself from Noting down the number on the notepad and just staring at it.

He had called, 1 year and 6 months later, he had called.

Harry left the notepad like it had been resting on the counter and went out to the garden to water his plants and get some peace from the quick Sand of the emotions that had started overwhelming in the presence of the noted down number. But it didn't help the rail of his thoughts that resulted in overflowing of the pots.

The evening had turned into a chilly night yet without a care he kept staring at the TV screen blankly, finding it hard to forget that voice message. That familiarity in the voice had almost Haunted harry every night in dreams and that un-advanced way of not knowing still how to end a voice message made harry smile if only for a moment but he was strongly reminded of how had things ended, in fights, In rush, in sadness, in heart break.

He wanted to call back and ask him why had he called, he even stood before the phone, dialing almost the entire number but could never gather the entire courage to actually call him back. How could he ? After everything that had happened, how could he?

It had been almost 1 and half year since harry moved to a small town in Paris living in a muggle suburb and still learning French but he had sat in his balcony drowning in rain, yet he never felt at home. He never wanted to leave Britain, London but what choice did he had but to leave everything behind and start new, a fresh start and yet all he felt was moving backwards. He loved it here, the neighborhood, the children on the streets, the grocery man, Adrian's little shop around the corner yet the smell of the Rain, the smell of laundry, the Blooming garden, the sunlight, nothing felt the same, not like how it was when he was with him. Nothing ever felt the same anymore .

Somewhere around blankly staring at the TV, the screen had Turned grey with no more left to watch when harry forcibly picked himself up and put himself to bed, relentlessly tossing and turning until sleep had returned to him like previous night's.

You can't stop thinking about me .

That's not true.

Do you really think so? Then why am I here ?

You tell me.

He sighed, his voice flourishing and sounding like the softest of breeze, you can feel it too, can't you, you know I will be there with you..

I can't feel anything. A pause.

You're coming?

Do you want me to ?

Harry tossed one last time, slowly opening his eyes in the silence of the night and the street light outside flickering with yellow and black. He sighed to himself as he sat right up and followed the line of sight to where the phone was kept.

" hi, draco, hi- uh, you called. I- didn't know about it- just got your message- I wanted to check what you called for so leave me a message or call me in the mor-"

" harry?"

Harry stilled with the phone pressed against his ear, his breathing sounding very clear like he had held the phone very close to himself as if holding it too close would make the conversation more real.

He stared at his feets on the ground comprehending how to respond, he had not expected draco to pick up-

" harry, you there ?"

" yeah, yeah. Uh sorry- I just- " he breathed " isn't it late ?"

" sort of yeah. I just- I came from a run "

" this late at night ?"

" yeah " he breathed.

Harry breathed.

" you called earlier ?"

" yeah " a long pause before he released a rolling breath and spoke again " I'm visiting Paris and I- I know you're there, so I was just wondering if you'd like to meet sometime if you're free of course ?"

Harry's fingers coiled to the telephone loop, a little smile forming over his lips as he whispered " Sure. When ?"

" this weekend "

" I'll pick you up ?"

" that'd be- nice " he breathed.

" okay "

They breathed.

" I'll send the details via mail " he added

" okay "

And they finally cut the call but all harry did was stare at his feets on the ground crossed together as if it offered any peace.

_______________________________

The sun had rose like usual with the birds chirping just outside Harry's balcony, the usual ringing of his alarm clock went unnoticed as harry stepped out of the long shower. He padded across the room water dripping down his neck due to his washed hair, finally shutting off the Alarm. He stared at the watch as minutes stroke by, his mind lost in the moving of the minute hands until a shiver has ran down his spine and he dropped the clock on the bed and fetched the shirt and the pants he has decided to worn a day before. The same blue flowy shirt and the same Khaki pants.

Anxiety was not a surprise visitor anymore as harry fidgeted wearing his watch over his rest and tying his shoe laces that at some point, harry left them be thinking that if he'd fall, he'd fall. He ran all around the apartment going from one room to another to living room because his things were scattered all across until finally the clock stroke 12 and harry left the apartment in his second hand ford from 1985.

Harry leaned against his car in front of the France ministry of magic building waiting for draco to come with sun bouncing over his soft brunette hair, checking his watch every minute or two.

And there he was, the same boy walking through the door carrying 2 bags in a soft cotton red faded shirt and washed blue jeans.

" waited for long ?"he asked awkwardly.

Harry shook his head as he took his bags and dropped them in back seat.

" I- harry- I just wanted to ask something "

Harry frowned but nodded as he opened the car door for draco.

" this isn't awkward, is it ?"

Harry huffed out a breath, glancing behind draco for a moment. Was it awkward,of course but he Wanted to settle through the awkwardness and not be like one of those people who can't visit their ex.

" it is a bit but we'll settle in. After all we're friends, right ?"

Draco chuckled softly before he nodded " we can be "

Harry smiled before he stepped away and let draco take the passenger seat and settled into his driver's seat as well.

" Hungry ?" Harry asked as the ignition roared.

Draco nodded " very "

" I know just the place " harry smiled putting on his sunglasses and drove to exactly where he needed to.

________________________________

Things remained a bit awkward with draco as harry adjusted to all new information and forgot thinking of draco as an ex he scrambled away from and reminded himself more to treat him like the way he used to before the relationship happened.

But despite that the wicked angels that remained on Harry's shoulder reminded him to be careful this time and even if he harry heard them, he ignored as he served draco the croissant he has freshly picked up from the bakery around the corner.

" what about the eiffel tower ?" Draco asked as he sipped his lemon tea, taking the plate of croissant away from harry.

" it's overrated but worth it. It's better in the evening, I'll take you there " harry replied as he ate his own.

" oh shit- I forgot. I had to be at work 15 minutes ago. I'll see you later yeah " draco hurried with his baked food and picked up his bag he has came with and disapparated from within the apartment.

Harry collapsed down on the chair thinking to himself what was he doing. How could he just forget everything and move on and pretend like nothing happened like he had been doing for days. He hated the pretending, the " I'm doing fine without you " act or we're better as friends act, he hated it but as draco would come from the hotel every afternoon and sometimes stay by till the evening, harry would allow himself to relish in those moments and let be.

"the real question is do you really want to be friends or not ?" Jade asks as she dressed the mannequin with new shirt introduced in this work fashion line.

" i- i don't know jade. Do I want to forget everything and move forward, yes but I can't just look at him pretend we don't have a past " harry kicked the ground as he was leaned against the wall in the cubicle with jade and the white mannequin for display.

" Harry, the past is the past. It doesn't matter anymore. And you know the whole thing about ex's can't be friends,it's shit, I'm friends with my first boyfriend " jade replied with the pin between her lips as he tucked the buttons together.

" your first boyfriend is gay now. You're not helping jade-"

" look harry. Is it worth it ? Is it worth spending time with him? Is it worth meeting him again everyday ? Is it worth being friends with him again ? Those are the real questions " She asked with her head titled for emphasis, her hands in the air waiting for his response.

Harry sighed closing his eyes, opening them again and spoke " I think. He's changed a lot and he's different now"

" well there you go and you know what, even if you don't want to be friends or anything, he's just visiting. He's not going to stay here forever you know and you barely visit home, so friends or no friends, it won't matter much" jade shrugged as she put the mannequin the hat and stretched her neck backwards to check the entire look before nodding to herself and stepping out of the cubicle, harry following him.

" I guess you're right " harry mumbled. Jade nodded and they departed to their response departments of work.

When the evening arrived he met draco Outside his work building and strolled off to where they could disapparate from without being noticed.

" it's a beautiful place " draco suddenly said as they were walking down the streets.

" it is " harry hummed nodding, pocketing his hand.

" don't you ever-" Breath " like miss home ? Everyone else?" He asked

Harry thought for a moment before he replied with all he could think of " it's a part of starting fresh. I miss people back home but I love it here too, everyone's nice "

" but doesn't it ever get lonely ?" Draco asked as he now walked right by Harry's side.

" sometimes but other times I just forget " harry shrugged looking forward before crossing the road.

" forget what ?" Draco asked as he ran to maintain his pace with harry.

" forget that I'm lonely. The best way to not get lonely is just not to think of being lonely " harry shrugged as he for a moment looked at Draco before he entered the dark Empty alley.

" is it easy ?" Draco asked as he stood before harry taking his hand for side along disapparation.

Harry gazed at draco, allowing the free sensation of holding his hand making him feel closer to home before he took a step forward towards draco.

" no "

And disapparated.

Part 2 & 3

might turn into a series fiction. @drarrywords thanks for beta reading this..

300 followers appreciate dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

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bubblesuga · 3 years

Text

Once In A Lifetime

Summary: Yoongi is a pain in your ass, but sometimes that's okay. What's a cafe job without a little drama?

genre: college!au tags: smut, fluff, mutual masturbation, cream pie, dirty talk W/C: 4,740 a/n: i have a weak spot for blond yoongi

You seethe silently while you stare at the schedule on the pin board in the back room. You begged your boss, damn near pleaded on your knees in front of her not to schedule you with him.

Its hard enough to close with only two people but fuck, if it isn't impossible when you're with Min Yoongi.

Don't get it wrong, Yoongi has a knack for customer service and he's quite good at making coffee but for some reason-- when the two of you were completely alone-- he became unbearably annoying.

It's like the moment the open sign turns off, he forgets how to work. While you're in the back cleaning dishes, sweeping the kitchen, counting cash drawers, taking out the garbage and everything else involved with closing, Yoongi turns on his speaker and plays whatever song he's been working on recently.

Okay, sure. This job isn't the most important thing on the planet. You both are just trying to get a little extra cash while you push through college, but you'll be damned if you get paid the same while you do all the work.

"Kati!" you yell from the back, your arms crossed and your nails digging into each of your biceps. You hear footsteps behind you, causing you to turn around expecting to see Kati.

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi leans in the doorway with a smirk on his face, "Awe, we're closing together again!"

"Awe we're closing toget-" you begin to mock but end up giving up and allowing your frustration to take over, "shut up, Yoongi."

"Don't seem so glum, sugar plum. I promise I'll be a good boy and listen to you." His words were too sweet to be true, they were laced with his famous sarcasm which only made you want to yell at him more.

Before you have the chance to counteract his sarcasm, he taps your back lightly before turning around and walking back out.

If there was one thing you did enjoy about him, it was the view of him when he walked away.

As the hours pass, eventually you and Yoongi are the last ones there. When Seokjin said goodbye, you silently pleaded that he would stay for just a little while longer. He gave you a slight apologetic look, glancing at Yoongi before shaking his head and walking out.

A groan leaves your lips.

It's only 9:30, you still have half an hour until the shop closes and there's way too many pastries left over.

Yoongi stands behind you, silently wiping down the coffee machines and humming along to whatever song was playing over the loud speakers.

Leaning back against the counter, you cross your arms and watch Yoongi for a moment. In a dark denim apron and slim black shirt, it feels as though the uniform was made for Yoongi. You can tell he's been working out lately, his muscles are more defined beneath the fabric of his shirt. It's killing you that despite being as annoying as he is, he's still immensely attractive and he knows it.

The snapback rests backwards on his head, blond hair poking out subtly. He turns, meeting your eyes for a moment which causes you to turn away quickly. It's quiet for a while again.

"I don't think anyone is going to come in," Yoongi breaks the silence, "I doubt Kati would mind if we closed early."

"I think she would. She said she gets a rush in the last 15 minutes so we should be prepared for that."

"We're not going to get a rush, we're a coffee shop and it's almost 10pm on a Monday."

"I'm not disobeying Kati just so you can play your shitty music and do nothing while I close."

"Shitty," he scoffs, "my music is hardly shitty, and I do help close. Who do you think cleans the front?"

"Wiping down espresso machines isn't the hardest part of closing." Maybe you're being a bit too harsh. Maybe you're trying to cover up the fact that he caught you staring at him earlier.

Yoongi sets the yellow rag down on the counter, turning to you fully, "I also sweep and mop up here. It's kinda hard to do anything else when your coworker does everything else. Ya ever think of delegating, huh?"

You feel your eye twitch. Just as you're about to respond, the bell above the door rings and you instantly wipe away your anger and throw your best customer service face on.

"Hi, good evening! What can I get for you today?"

As you help the customer, Yoongi walks to the back.

You make her coffee, heat her Panini, and speak with her for a moment about the aromatics of the freshly ground coffee beans that you had become used to. You didn't have the heart to tell her that you didn't smell it anymore, so you talked about how that was your favorite part about working in a cafe.

When she leaves, you realize it's finally time to close.

Switching off the open sign, you open the cash drawers and begin counting. Anything extra goes into the safe, and it seems as though everything was in place tonight.

In the back, you can hear Yoongi moving around and you don't question what he's doing.

Cleaning, sweeping, and mopping... Eventually you finish the front and move to the back but you stop suddenly.

Yoongi isn't playing his music.

Raising an eyebrow, you push open the door to the back and see that the kitchen is completely spotless.

Yoongi puts the last of the dirty dishes away and turns to you, "Don't worry, princess. I did it just the way you like it."

"T- thank-" you stutter but you're not able to finish your sentence before Yoongi pushes past you and walks out the door. The bell rings and you realize that he's left. The two of you managed to close in under 20 minutes.

You can't help but feel a sense of guilt wash over you. You definitely we're being a bit too harsh, and it seems to have affected Yoongi more than you thought it would.

Sighing, you push a hand through your hair and walk out the door.

Your drive home is silent. You're not one to overthink, especially when it comes to Yoongi, but you feel the need to apologize.

After your nightly routine, you plop into bed and glance at your phone. It doesn't take much to make you open your contact list.

(Y/N) sent 10:55

hey. just wanted to apologize for calling your music shitty. for the record, it's not. you're pretty good.

Your phone dings quickly.

Yoongi received 10:56

no need to be sorry, i know i'm good.

You don't respond, rolling your eyes and tossing your phone onto the night stand.

~*~*~

Closing the next day was much more simple than before. Yoongi did the back again, but this time you could hear his music playing again.

The beats are much more incredible than you'd ever admit to him in person. His voice speaks melodically to the music, drowning out your thoughts. You find yourself tapping your foot to the beat as you finish cleaning up the front.

The song finishes and there's a sudden change of pace.

Instead of a strong bass line and incredible drum work, a piano plays through.

Your interest is piqued, your legs carrying you to the back where Yoongi stands. He doesn't notice you, allowing the song to continue to play.

"This is gorgeous." you murmur, and a switch flips in Yoongi.

His hands, though soaked with water and soap, reaches up and turns off the speaker. He turns to you, panicked, "N- no one is supposed to hear that one. I didn't realize it was so loud."

"So you're telling me you just...listen to your own music?"

"Well, no," for the first time, you see a blush creep across Yoongi's face, "I play certain songs for you, and there's certain songs that are just for me."

"You play songs for me?" Any resentment you had towards the man dissipated in an instant. Instead, butterflies swarmed in your tummy. Butterflies for him.

He scratches the back of his neck, "Well, I don't play them for me. I want you to see how good I am."

"Humble," you hum, giggling slightly. Yoongi seems taken aback by the sound but doesn't get a chance to dwell as you continue to speak, "why can't I listen to this song?"

Yoongi sighs, "It's embarrassing."

"Let me listen," you begin to walk towards the speaker but Yoongi puts his hands on your shoulders to hold you back, "come on, Yoongi."

Yoongi doesn't give, but you manage to slip passed his hands and fall against his chest. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and waddling you backwards. In a last ditch effort, you attempt to reach passed him but his grip on you is surprisingly strong.

"No, no, Princess. That song is for me and me only."

The nickname has a stronger affect on you than usual.

"But..." you stick your bottom lip out in a fake pout, "I wanna hear the softer side of Min Yoongi."

Yoongi's eyes dart to your lips, licking his own. You're suddenly aware of just how close Yoongi is keeping you, his cologne filling your nose. He's cute from this angle, his nose is rounded and is tinged with red at the tip. His eyes, though dark, are brighter than usual. He smiles softly, a gentle giggle falling from his lips.

"I can't tell you how many times I've wanted you this close to me." Your heart melts at his words, and you look down to the way your chests are pressed against each other.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you question.

He smiles, "I did, you just didn't listen since you were so preoccupied with your little closing routine."

"My little closing routine makes the opener's life so much easier." you defend, trying to distract yourself from the way his hands sit at the base of your spine, playing gently with the hem of your shirt.

"I'm sure the opener is very concerned with the fact that you make sure you set the forks before the spoons and the knives right after." Yoongi whispers, his tone joking but his eyes glazing over. Even in the horrendous white lighting of the kitchen, he looks beautiful.

"Bite me, Yoongi."

Yoongi bares his teeth and scrunches his nose, "If you insist."

Without wasting a second, Yoongi's mouth latches onto your lips. You gasp into the kiss, but Yoongi's grip tightens and holds you closer.

To say your stomach exploded into butterflies would be an understatement. Your entire body lit up like a Christmas tree, heat radiating from your skin because Yoongi was everywhere. His hands were large, slipping underneath the hem of your shirt and resting on your lower back. He didn't stray any higher or lower, simply planting himself in one spot while his lips continued their attack on yours.

He smiles against your lips, taking them away only to begin his reign over your jaw line and down your neck. Then, he nips.

One.

Two.

Three.

By the fourth, his teeth are biting at your collarbones, but his hands have not moved from your back. You mewl above him, desperately clinging to his arms. Damn your neck for being so sensitive.

"Yoongi," you breathe, "touch me, Yoongi."

"I am touching you." He murmurs stubbornly against your skin.

You whine, "Your hands, Yoongi."

"Hmm," he hums, chuckling, "I like when you say my name."

Suddenly his hands drop down to your ass, kneading it through the thin fabric of your work leggings. He pulls himself back up to your face, planting his lips against yours again as you moan into his mouth.

Yoongi slips his hands between the two of you, hooking his fingers beneath the band of both your leggings and your panties.

"Are we really about to fuck in the kitchen?" You ask, your chest heaving.

Yoongi leans back, taking a second to assess the situation. "You're right, my apartment?"

"No, your car."

"Dirty girl," he grins, taking his keys out of his pocket, "I'll turn off all the lights. Go get ready for me."

You nod, grabbing his keys and walking out of the door. As you're about to reach the front door, it already swings open and Kati waltzes in completely unexpectedly.

Panicked, your eyes go wide and you halt just before leaving from behind the counter. Kati glances up from her phone, "Ah, perfect, is Yoongi still here?"

Swallowing, you nod carefully.

"Great, I need to talk to you both," she turns towards the kitchen, "Yoongi! Get your ass up here!"

Closing your eyes, you pray to god that he's composed himself a little more than you have. Sure enough, he walks from the kitchen and seems just as nonchalant as ever, "Yes, boss?"

"So, I need you two to close for the next couple weeks together. Jackson quit and Woojin can't work nights."

"...and?" Yoongi questions.

She seems slightly taken aback, "Well, I need to make sure you two won't kill each other."

Both you and Yoongi hold back laughter.

Resting his arm softly on your shoulder, Yoongi's skin is still hot against yours, "No promises, boss."

"I'm serious," she scolds, "It's only a couple weeks then I'll never schedule you two alone again."

"Yes ma'am." you put your hand up in a salute.

Working alone with Yoongi for 2 weeks? What could possibly go wrong?

Kati smiles, "Alright then. I'm gonna grab the money from the safe then I'll let you two get back to closing."

You two silently watch Kati unlock the safe beneath the register, taking out the deposits from today. Yoongi's arm hasn't left your shoulder, his fingers brushing lightly against your collarbone. When you turn over to him, his face showing no emotion but his hands doing more to you than you could ever imagine.

Kati turns back, "Okay, be here at 2 tomorrow. Thank you!"

As she walks out, Yoongi's arm falls from your neck.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow as he wipes his brow.

"I was shitting bricks." Yoongi says, causing you to tilt your head. "Why?"

"You have hickeys all over your neck."

Your eyes widen, your hand flying to your neck, "Yoongi! Do you know how fucking bad that could have been?"

"I know, that's why I covered your neck." He explains, gesturing with just as wild eyes.

"No, no-" you shake your head, "We almost fucked in the kitchen, Yoongi. That's not okay."

"But we were gonna go to my car!" Yoongi's shoulders slump and his mouth is agape in confusion.

"Imagine if she had walked in when your tongue was down my throat."

"Well I would have asked her to join."

"Yoongi!"

"I'm kidding, you know I only have eyes for you babe." He steps closer, leaning forward to press a kiss against your lips once again. You pull away, shaking your head.

Despite the fact that it was taking everything in you not to kiss him again, not to giggle at his lighthearted jokes and just follow him to his car, you knew that you had to practice self-discipline otherwise no work would ever get done with Yoongi.

"Are you upset?" Yoongi seems hurt.

"No," you sigh, "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to do anything here."

Yoongi straightens his back, clearing his throat and adjusting his clothes, "Right. Wouldn't want anyone's coffee getting out late because we're in the back fucking."

"Right." you whisper.

Yoongi smiles softly, "Doesn't mean I won't imagine it."

"Such a gentleman," you roll your eyes, bending down to grab your bag, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~*~*~

"Can I get an Dirty Chai with oatmilk, Yoongi?"

It's the first time you had one of those late night rushes that Kati was talking about. There's a line out the door, drunk college students desperate for some sort of carbs to soak up the alcohol. Yoongi is running back and forth from the panini press to the espresso machine while you grabbed pastries and muffins for what seemed like hours.

It being busy hasn't distracted you enough from the past couple of days with Yoongi.

Yoongi has respected the boundary you set-- for the most part. Walking passed you in the small space behind the counter, his hands brush along your back, a trail of heat following his fingertips. Though it's not the most intense of touches, there's a sensuality of it that leaves you nearly a panting mess.

Your conversations have been more open, you continue to ask him about his music and he wonders aloud about your studies. He learned that you were a history major, specializing in paleontology. Ever since then, he likes to ask questions about random dinosaurs. It's certainly cute, because you can tell he's genuinely interested but he's only interested because you're the one telling him.

You still haven't been able to listen to that song that he started, and he insist its because its not good enough for the rest of the world to hear it yet. You're sure its finished, he's just not ready for you to hear what it's about. Something tells you you're getting close though.

Yoongi turns around a few moments after your request, setting a Dirty Chai on the counter. You call out the customer's name and smile as you hand it to her.

"Swap me, babe. My hands are shaking."

Oh yeah, the pet names have evolved as well.

"Shaking?" you question, but you don't have enough time to dwell as the panini press dings and you're rushing to the other side of the front.

Sure enough, as you glance back Yoongi's hands are shaking while he begins handing out pastries.

Finishing up a few more coffees, you call out customer names and the dining room begins to clear out. The line is gone and a few groups sit in the dining room, eating their food.

The second that Yoongi hands the last pastry out, he walks to the back without saying a word to you.

Glancing at the customers, you swallow and follow him.

When you enter the kitchen, Yoongi's taking deep breaths against the sink. He doesn't notice you, so you lean opposite him against the counter.

Leaning forward, you rest your hands on either side of Yoongi's face, forcing him to look you in the eye.

"That was a lot of people." Yoongi breathes.

"It was, but we kicked ass." you reassure him, but his breathing doesn't slow down.

"I think I'm having an anxiety attack," he explains, "can you hug me? P- pressure helps calm down the fight or flight response and-"

You don't allow him to finish, pulling him close to you and wrapping your arms tightly around him. His face buries itself into your neck, his breath fanning raggedly over your skin. It takes him a few moments, but his breathing slowly begins to calm, his heart rate slowing against your chest.

"If its ever getting to much for you just let me know and I'll fly solo for a little bit." you speak softly, your hand moving up to stroke the back of Yoongi's head.

"I can't do that to you," he sighs, "I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

"No, I get it," your nails begin to scratch his scalp gently, "a lot of drunk people wanting food is overwhelming, especially when their patience is non-existent. If you ever need to take a breather then I won't get mad."

"You already hate closing with me, I don't want to make it worse."

Your heart breaks.

"No, I don't hate closing with you. I think I was just trying to hide my feelings." You never expected to say this to him, but at this point you'll do anything to make him feel better.

He pulls away from your neck, a shy smile on his face. He has done a complete 180 from two nights ago.

"You have feelings for me?"

"Well, I certainly feel something." You look down, hyper aware of how close he is to you.

He grins, leaning down and pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips. Before the conversation can go any further, the bell dings open and both of you jump apart, moving to the front to help yet another customer.

The rest of the night went by much more smoothly than earlier.

Yoongi turns on his music in the front while you do the dishes in the back. He's playing his usual mix, and you find yourself humming along to the songs as they come.

It's not until you're almost finished do you hear the familiar piano notes begin to play. Peaking your head out of the kitchen, Yoongi holds the speaker in his hands and watches you carefully. Slow melodies play out underneath his gentle voice, the lyrics portraying the man's first love.

You cross your arms, soaking in the lyrics as much as you can. His face is red as more emotion plays out. It doesn't take you long to realize that what you're listening to is the personification of Yoongi's passion. A conversation is held between him and the piano, and Yoongi sets flame to it all.

When the song comes to a close, you don't move, or breathe, or speak.

"Oh my god, say something!"

You look up, meeting Yoongi's scared eyes.

"When you become famous can I sell your autograph on ebay?"

Yoongi laughs, "Yeah, you can sell it."

You don't think of a witty response. Instead, you walk towards him and hug him once again. Resting your head on his shoulder, you two sway for a moment, almost dancing with the air. The atmosphere of the empty cafe has become much more calming than it was before.

His hands dance along your spine, "You know, I've never shown anyone that song before."

"I'm glad that my insistence made me the first." you tease, inhaling Yoongi's cologne. He certainly knows how to smell good.

"Your insistence, yes," he starts, "but also your impeccable ability to strengthen my confidence."

"Awe, does Yoongi have a soft spot for me?" you try your best to hide the way his smile is making your heart flutter.

"Always have." He murmurs, his lips kissing the tip of your nose.

"We're not very good at the whole 'not-kissing-at-work' thing." you giggle, feeling his grip tighten.

"I don't want to be good at it."

He doesn't allow you to respond before his lips are on yours once again. Against them, he smirks, "Shall we go to my car tonight?"

"God yes."

With steamy windows and Yoongi's hot body on top of yours, you both completely forget about your surroundings. His back seat is incredibly comfortable, your head resting on his shirt while he nips along your stomach and down to your hips.

It didn't take long for the two of you to move, you listening to Yoongi's every silent demand as he taps your hip to signal you to lift them.

Smiling, he murmurs a soft, "Good girl." before sliding your leggings and panties off in one go.

Now fully exposed, goosebumps raise under your skin. Yoongi is slow moving, his tongue drawing circles on your pelvic bone before biting down harshly. You gasp, your back arching into him.

"How long have you been this wet?" Yoongi asks, his fingers moving forward to collect your arousal. He slips through your folds, pushing a single finger into your aching heat.

You can't formulate a response to his question, because he begins a tormentingly slow thrust into your head, curling his finger upward.

Dipping his head down, his lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks.

Your hips jerk against him, but the pleasure doesn't play out for long before his pulling away.

"I don't want you to cum yet," he chuckles when you whine, standing and unbuckling his belt, "I just needed to make sure you were ready."

"And what?" you bite playfully, "you gonna pull out a huge snake or some shit?"

"I don't think so," Yoongi responds, sliding his pants down his legs, revealing his cock, "it's alright."

It's more than alright. Your mouth waters over the sight, twitching slightly from his arousal. It's curved upward, the tip already a hot red and leaking precum. His hand wraps around the base of it, stroking it slowly. Out of habit, you slide your middle and ring fingers into your mouth, sliding them down your body and to your clit.

You eyes don't pull themselves away from the way Yoongi is skillfully touching himself, thumb running along the tip and a string of saliva falling from his mouth to the tip of his cock.

"You like watching me touch myself?" He asks, his voice significantly deeper than it was before. You nod, not looking away from his cock.

"Answer me." he takes his hand away from his cock and brings it to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He's willing to sacrifice his own pleasure to get an answer out of you, and for some reason that only turns you on even more. You speed the movements on your clit, moaning softly while you look into Yoongi's eyes.

He clicks his tongue once he notices your movements, grabbing your wrist and dragging it up to his mouth. Licking your fingers clean, he grabs your other hand and holds both of your wrists against your pelvic bone, just out of reach of your heat. He likes playing games, and he likes to win.

"Yes," you finally manage, "yes I like watching you jerk off."

He grins, a gummy grin that makes him seem much more innocent than he is. The words are dirty falling from your tongue but it only seems to heighten the fire in Yoongi's eyes.

"Good," he says, gripping his cock again and thrusting into his hand, "should I let you cum just from watching me?"

Your wrists twitch in his other hand, "P- please."

"Okay, whatever you want princess."

He lets go of your hands and your fingers fly to your clit, desperately rubbing harsh circles while he continues to stroke himself.

As his pace speeds up, he begins to let out soft, subtle moans. Your chest heaves at the sounds, hands shaking while you push yourself even closer to the edge.

"Louder, Yoongi," you beg, "please."

Yoongi bites his bottom lip briefly, a small whimper falling from his mouth while you arch your back, the heat in your abdomen growing stronger and stronger.

Yoongi's hand stops suddenly, "Where do you want me to cum?"

You grin mischievously, gesturing to your core.

Yoongi's eyes widen, crawling closer to you and leaning down, "You want me to cum in your pussy?"

You nod frantically.

"Who would have thought my pretty princess was such a dirty girl."

"Just fuck me, Yoongi." you whine, pushing your heat towards him. Yoongi does just that, slipping his cock into you. You instantly clamp around him, causing his hips to stutter deeper into you.

He gains his rhythm quickly, not holding back as he holds your hips into his back seat and pounds into you harshly.

A deep growl erupts from his chest at your small whimpers, an almost primal instinct taking over him as he leans down to kiss you. The second his lips touch yours, you gasp and feel yourself release. A loud moan of his name falls from your lips as you come undone, pushing his hips into yours with your heels.

Yoongi follows suit quickly, his release coating your walls and his head collapsing onto your chest.

"Holy fuck." He says after a minute, his mouth agape while he tries to catch his breath.

"Better than you imagined?" You feel proud of yourself for having such a huge affect on Yoongi. It's not often does he seem caught off guard.

"Way better," he replies, "the best I've ever had."

You run your nails over his scalp again, feeling him shiver against you, "Maybe if you take me out, you'll be able to have it again."

Yoongi pulls his head up, "When, where, what time?"

"I'll leave that up to you," you smile, "let's just cuddle for now."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

#min yoongi x yn #min yoongi x reader fluff #min yoongi x reader smut #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader smut #yoongi x reader fluff #bts #bts x reader

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

The Hybrid (I)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: Thank you for being patient with me as I slowly write this series. I had this idea a long time ago and I’m not finding motivation to write it but the inspiration comes and go. I smile with every comment that is left on my fics and I’m so grateful for this community. Thank you for letting me pursue my creative writing without judgement. Love you guys! (Also, yes. If you didn’t see my last note, I based YN’s family off of the Gilmore Girls characters. That’s who I picture as them.)

Word Count: 8k

Masterlist Prologue

You wake up to someone falling on your bed next to you with a dramatic sigh. Knowing exactly who it is, you choose to ignore her and try getting back to the dreamless sleep you were peacefully having before you woke up.

That is, until she sighs again.

You flip onto your back and stare up at your ceiling fan that’s quickly spinning above you. “What, Rory?”

“How did it go with Andre and that boy?”

You look at her with one brow raised. “You woke me up to hear about Andre’s love life? That hardly sounds like you. You don’t care about high school drama or hookups.”

“You’re right,” Rory says. “But I thought I would ease you into what I actually need to tell you.”

You turn on right side and look at your sister confused. “What?”

She sighs. “The cafe’s basement flooded last night. Mom needs us there to help her clean up and take inventory on what’s salvageable.”

You turn back on you backside and close your eyes, exhaling a deep sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not,” Rory says and pats you twice on your covered thigh as she sits up. “Come on. I made you pre-cafe coffee. It’s sitting in the kitchen.”

You throw your sheets off of you and trudge to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face. It’s about 8 a.m. At least you were able to get about six hours of sleep.

Last night, it was hard to let your brain rest to fall asleep. You kept tossing and turning, thinking about the blonde Pogue who walked you home. You missed how easy it was to talk to someone who you felt truly knew you. Your banter rolled off your tongue easily and you never had to worry about offending him because you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew what he could take and what he couldn't.

Talking to him brought back childhood memories you had hidden deep in your mind. How JJ would constantly poke you until you ripped into a smile on days that were grey. How you used to steal John B’s bandanas until he was chasing you around his house to get them back. How you would draw a mustache and a unibrow on Pope’s face when he fell asleep by the water.

Those days felt like they were decades ago. So far away, you didn’t know if you’d be able to reach for them again. If it was even possible to get back.

You thought about texting him. Thanks for walking me back. We should all get together soon! You had written out. But then you deleted the whole message, telling yourself it was because you didn’t know if he even had the same number. But deep down, you were just afraid of the rejection.

Its been about three years since the four of you had been together in one place. You don’t know what they’ve been through or if they’ve changed. They for sure as hell don’t know what you’ve been through. You don’t know if they're dynamic has changed. Clearly you and JJ can still joke with each other but what about John B and Pope? You heard about John B’s father disappearing at sea, most people believing he’s dead, but John B holding onto hope that’s he’s alive. You always thought about calling him to reach out and offer your condolences. But for the same reason you didn’t text JJ, you never called. It didn’t feel like your place. They had Kie for that now. A little part of you felt jealous of her, like she had replaced you and any memory of you. She seemed nice, but she wasn’t you.

“Ready?” Rory pops her head in to your room as you slip on a cropped plain white zip up jacket over your cropped black tank.

“As I’ll ever be,” You say and snag the car keys out of her hands. “Don’t even think about it. I’m driving.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “I want to get there safely.”

“And I want to get there quickly.”

“Fine. But we’re taking my car. It actually has doors.”

For your sixteenth birthday, your grandparents gifted both you and Rory your own individual cars and even let you pick them out. Rory chose a black 2020 Honda Civic for it’s safety features and reputation for longevity as if she was planning on handing it down to her future kids. And you picked out a white 2020 Jeep Wrangler with a hard top that pops off along with the doors for a very open and thrilling ride. Everyone but you called it a death trap, but you found it to be the perfect summer car.

You park Rory’s boring Honda Civic in the back of the cafe in a lot used specifically for employees. The cafe is already booming with teens and families, waiting for their morning coffees and fresh pastries. Kids your age are running around behind the counter with sweat dripping down their brow bone to get everyone’s orders out in a timely manner.

In the back of the store, your mom walks up the steps from the basement with two large trash bags and immediately notices the two of you. “Oh good. You’re here. Rory, help the girls behind the counter. The dishwasher’s broken and poor Hailey is hand washing everything. Y/N, come with me downstairs.”

“Why does Rory get the fun job?” You grumble and follow your mom back downstairs after she tosses the two trash bags.

“Because she’s actually nice to the customers.”

“Treat others how you would like to be treated. Isn’t that what everyone always says?” You smirk. You never agreed with the phrase ‘the customer is always right.’ It’s complete bullshit and being the employee shouldn’t mean letting yourself getting verbally abused by a ‘Karen’ on the other side of the counter.

The basement is used for the cafe’s storage, lined with wooden shelves Steve put together that hold to go cups, back up espresso machines, boxes of coffee and food and ingredients, etc. Now all the boxes are dark and sopping, creating puddles on the concrete floor.

“Oh my god. Mom. How did this happen?”

“Jenky water pipe busted in the middle of the night,” Steve walks down the stairs and passes your mom a knowing look. It didn’t surprise you that he was here. He’s the jack of all trades. Owns his own automotive shop, builds a lot of his own furniture, actually cooks a decent meal, and has the same outlook on customer service as you do. He was probably your mom’s first call. “Talked to the plumber. They can’t get here until at least noon.”

“Noon? We’ll be underwater by noon. I might as well turn all my employees into a swim team,” Your mom says.

Steve shakes his head. “I was able to hold the leak until he gets here. You should be fine.”

Steve was the first person that actually helped your mother out when's she moved to the Cut. Six months pregnant, she pushed her car into his automotive shop after it broke down on the side of the road. Their banter was similar to the one you and JJ have. He helped save your mom money by building yours and Rory’s cribs, changing table, and dressers. And ever since, the two of them had been connected by the hip, although they both refuse to admit it. You think the pair are just trying to deny the love they clearly share for each other. And you think the main reason for that is because of the incident four years ago with your mom’s ex boyfriend. No thanks to you.

“Look at you constantly building your resume,” You smirk at him.

Steve scoffs. “It’s more than what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes. Steve is the closest thing you have to a father. He practically helped raise you with your mom. He’s the one you turn to whenever a fight with your mom goes too far, which isn't too often but it happens. He usually lets you stay at his house for the night to let you cool off. But he’ll never sugar coat his advice when it comes time for him to give it. Even if you don’t ask for it. He knows growing up with Rory has been challenging. She was clearly your mom’s favorite, or at least that’s what you thought. She has a 4.0 GPA with a realistic dream to get into Brown University and study journalism. She played by every rule, never got into trouble, and spent most of her free nights getting ahead of her school work or staying late at the cafe with an open book from the library across the street. She was an absolute angel to everyone else, making you look like her evil twin.

You glare at him before turning to your mom with crossed arms. “What do you want me to do, Mom?”

“Actually honey. Can you go to Heywards and grab more coffee filters and napkins. The water soaked right through the plastic wrapping on our last box.”

You nod, leaving your mom and Steve to clean up the basement themselves. Before heading out, you sneak behind the counter and make yourself a quick coffee to go.

“Where you going?” Rory asks as she reaches behind you to grab a banana for her customer at the register.

“Heywards to grab a couple things for Mom.”

“Oh. Make sure to grab toilet paper while you’re out. I think we’re almost out of it.”

“Got it.”

Heywards is only a short drive from your mom’s cafe. It’s the closest convenient store that isn’t crazy pricey. It’s where your mom gets all her supplies whenever she runs out of things before shipment gets there.

You use to always come here when you were younger with the boys, each of you, even Pope, stealing a small bag of chips or a candy bar here and there. Little did any of you know, Mr. Heyward caught your thieving hands every time but never said anything.

The bell above the door chimes when you walk into the store. You know this place as well as you know the cafe, finding the toilet paper and coffee filter immediately.

When Mr. Heyward looks up from the counter, his smile grows. He can pick you out of a crowd anywhere, but he hasn’t seen you in a long time. Last time he saw you, you had braces and overgrown bushy brows. Now you had bushed hair and shaved legs.

“Hi. Mr. Heyward,” You grin shyly at him. You don’t know how he’s going to react to see you, unsure of what Pope might have told him about you.

“Little Miss Y/L/N? Is that you?” Heyward smiles widely, pulling your own lips into a wider smile. “I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy with school and my mom’s cafe...” Both of those things were a lie. You just avoid the Cut to avoid the Pogues.

“How’s the fam?”

“They’re good,” You say as Heyward hands you your bags. “Mom says hello by the way. I’m actually taking these to her store now.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger. We miss your smiling face around her. Anette, too.” Heyward says, mentioning his wife.

“Tell her I said hi.”

“Of course, darling.”

Heyward and Anette always had a special place in their heart for you and Rory. They’re not one for gossip, but they knew a little bit about what your mom’s been through and have heard plenty of stories about your grandparents. They always thought, despite your mom’s background, that you and your sister were raised impressively. Anette always hoped that one day Pope and Rory would get together. Everyone always wanted their child to be with Rory.

As your about to leave the store, the bell chimes again with another customer. Only it’s not another customer. It’s Pope and John B. They don’t see you at first, and you wonder if maybe you can sneak out without them seeing you. But something about that felt wrong. Especially because Heyward would more than likely mention to them that you were here.

Pope sees you first and stops in his tracks. “Y/N?”

“Hey, guys. Long time no see,” You smile at both of them. You bite down on your lip awkwardly when you meet John B’s stare. You don’t know if you should mention anything about his dad’s disappearance. But what would you say? Sorry? What good would that do?

“How’ve you been?” Pope gives you a small side hug, then John B.

You shrug. “You know, living the dream.”

“How’s life as a Hybrid?” John B smirks.

You roll your eyes playfully and groan. “Oh god. Never call me that again.”

You may be considered a Hybrid by everyone else, but you would never put yourself into that category. You grew up a Pogue, the same way everyone else did around you. The only thing tying you to the Kooks are your grandparents.

“Why?” John B smirks. “I wish I was a Hybrid.”

You smirk back. “Maybe you will be one day. I hear you have a Kook of your own for arm candy.”

You saw a faint hint of blush on John B’s cheek at the mention of his girlfriend but you don’t mention it. “Sarah, yeah. She’s not like the other Kooks.”

“I would hope not. Her brother’s a dick.”

“Yeah,” They laugh.

“We miss you, you know.” John B says. Pope looks at you, trying to read your expression. John B’s not wrong. They do all miss you, especially Pope. He felt like you were the only one who really understood him. Of course his other friends are great, but you actually took the time to try and understand his passions. Like forensic science.

“I miss you guys too. It’s been a while.”

“Well, hey. We’re actually all getting together tonight at my place. Nothing big. Just a bonfire and a couple beers. You should stop by,” John B says.

“Yeah,” Pope says, immediately getting hopeful that you’ll show up.

Your smile falters. The invite makes your heart swell and your lungs contract. It’s an invite you’ve been wanting for three years. And now that you have it, you don’t know what to say. It’d be different if it was just the four of you like old times. But now there’s Kie and Sarah and although you have nothing against them, you’re afraid they won’t accept you. The thought of your boys picking them over you terrifies you.

“Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll try to swing by later.”

Pope smiles wide and looks at his friend to see his reaction. John B grins and nods, almost impressed that you had agreed. But he saw the twitch in your lips when the question was asked.

“Great. I guess we’ll see you later then.”

You nod. “Okay. Bye guys.”

You suck in a deep breath when the fresh air outside of Heyward’s store brushes over you. Your heart thumps wildly with both excitement and nerves when you’re finally able to collect your thoughts. You don’t know what you’ll do tonight, but the possibilities can change your entire summer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You spent the rest of the day mopping up the cafe’s basement and rearranging the shelves. You smelled of sweat and coffee grounds by the time you were done and dreamt of the shower you would be taking when you got home.

Rory drove you home after the two of you closed up the cafe for the day. Neither of you said much. Rory was exhausted from running around behind the counter and you were too busy thinking about whether you’d go back to the place you used to call your second home.

You took a longer shower than usual, still pondering what your night would be like. Your head was telling you to stay home but your heart pulled you in the direction of the Cut. You yearned to hear about what the future held for Pope, and listen to John B retell stories of when you were kids, and be able to stare into JJ’s bright blue eyes without him noticing.

You changed into a pair of jean shorts and a plain red cropped tank. Rory walks into your room as your brushing out your hair and looks at you as if you lost your mind.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t wear that,” She says.

You brows scrunch together in confusion. “What are you talking about? I wear shit like this all the time.”

“Not to the Country Club, you don’t.” That’s when it hits you. Today’s been so hectic, you forgot what day it was. “It’s Sunday.”

Sunday dinner at the Country Club is now a weekly commitment forced upon you by your grandparents. Each week, your mom, sister, and you are forced to spend one dinner with your grandma and grandpa. This is basically your mom’s payment back for sending you and Rory to Kook Academy. Only they actually pay for the dinner. It’s usually the longest two hours of your entire week. It’s hard to listen to your grandfather rant about Real Estate and your grandma slyly critique your mother in almost every aspect of her life.

“Shit. I completely forgot,” You say.

“Well, you better change. We’re leaving in about five minutes,” Rory says then plucks a gold necklace from your dresser. “Oh and can I wear this tonight?”

You sigh. “Sure.”

You change into a baby blue wrap around dress and pin your wet hair into a half up half down due. It’s gonna have to work for the limited time you have to get ready. After applying a thin layer of makeup to look the least bit presentable, you meet your mom and sister by the front door.

“Finally,” Your mom says when she sees you.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was Sunday.”

“It’s okay, honey. I just don’t think I can handle another late remark from Mom today.” She looks you up and down and grins. “You look great.”

Despite the many fiery fights you and your mom can have, she is also your best friend. It’s kind of like a love hate relationship. Steve says it’s because you’re exactly like your mom - almost like a sixteen year old version of her.

You really hope that isn’t true. You’re not ready to have a kid in two years.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your grandparents are already sitting at a round table in the corner of the country club by the two tall windows that reach up to the ceiling with a view looking out into the golf course. The best seat in the house for the richest a holes on the island.

“Lorelai,” Your grandmother grins, but you can instantly tell it’s sarcastic. “Did you have to walk here?”

You speak up before your mom could. “Sorry Grandma. It’s my fault we’re late.”

Your grandparents are hard on your mom but easier on you and Rory, especially Rory.

“Well, you’re here now,” Your grandpa says. He’s usually the mediator between your mom and grandma. Although he’s usually sucks at it. “Sit. Sit.”

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, JJ shuffles through his many coworkers with his apron in one hand and a piece of fried calamari from Miss Carol’s appetizer in the other.

“JJ -” She scolds and slaps his hand away from going in for a second piece.

“Good evening Miss Carol,” JJ smirks and makes his way to the area between the kitchen and dining room where most of the servers and bust boys hang out. Some of the boys slap him on the back or shove him by the shoulder, chuckling to themselves. “What’s going on boys? Busy crowd?”

“What are you doing here? You never work Sundays,” His friend, Mitch, says.

Luke Maybank was behind on several bills - worse than it’s ever been. They already shut off their electricity and JJ wanted to make sure the water wouldn’t be next.

But JJ shrugs nonchalantly. “Little extra dough can't hurt.”

“Well, you picked a good day,” Raymond walks up to the blonde, rolling his sleeves. “You got Kook Royalty and their Hybrid offsprings in your section.”

“What?” JJ looks through the small square Plexiglas on the swinging door. He knows exactly where to look and immediately sees you sitting with King and Queen Kook, looking absolutely miserable, pushing around your food with your fork.

“Damn, Maybank. Almost broke your neck - you turned so fast.”

“Shut up, Easterling. I was just seeing how crowded we were,” JJ lied. He really just wanted to see if you were here. And now that he sees you are, he’s a little nervous to do his own damn job.

Raymond Easterling chuckles. “Yeah, I know what you were looking at. But don’t get your hopes up. There’s a reason Kooks call that girl the Heart Sucker. Not even the high and powerful JJ Maybank could get a piece of that.”

The guys around JJ and Raymond chuckle and nod in agreement, hearing the stories of how you’d reject every single guy that’s ever asked you out. Sometimes you’d go on a few dates, trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone, but then things would quickly become too much, and you’d get overwhelmed.

JJ didn’t like the way Raymond talked about you or how the others laughed at your expense. His hands clenched into fists, tempted to throw a punch in Ray’s cocky face. The guy’s just being a jerk because he’s one of the guys that got rejected by you, he thought.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” JJ shakes his head and ties his apron around his waist to distract his hands.

“No?” Raymond challenges him. “You think I’m wrong? You think you could pull the infamous Hybrid over there?”

JJ glances back through the window. You’re looking at your grandma with a clearly forced grin. You’re twirling your hair between your fingers, a habit you picked up when you were little to do when you’re bored. JJ would find you doing that in school all the time.

You’re gorgeous, he thought. It’s no wonder that almost every guy on this island has tried to make a pass on you, including JJ himself, but his remarks always come off as playful, afraid of actually telling you how he feels about you. His fantasies about you went further than just getting you between the sheets. He could picture getting married, having children, and growing old together. Years ago, the two of you would talk about your future. Neither one of you cared about money or fancy jobs. All you wanted was to be free - of this island, of each other’s families, of responsibilities placed on you from birth. You hold the same values as JJ, and he’s never met another person like you.

But JJ has a hard exterior. No one other than his best friends know his true heart, and he wasn’t going to let someone like Raymond Easterling find out about his soft spot for you. He would never hear the end of it.

JJ looks at you one last time. You’re talking to Rory, your face in his direction. This time you’re smiling, probably discussing something other than your grandparent’s expectations of you. He’d kill to see that smile every single day.

What’s the worst that could happen? You reject him? Yeah, that might kill JJ inside, but maybe you’d still be his friend, or continue to be acquaintances like you are now. As long as he gets to see you, he’d be okay. There was always the future. But who knows? Maybe you’d say yes? He’ll never know unless he tries. Right?

JJ fakes the same cocky grin that Raymond wears. “I haven’t failed yet.”

The guys around him whistle and shake their heads with smiles.

“All right, Maybank. Let’s make a bet. I’ll give you one hundred dollars to get Y/N Y/L/N in the sack by the fourth of July.”

JJ scoffs. “You like giving away free money?” He ignored his racing heart at the thought of being that intimate with you.

Raymond nods. “Okay. Let’s put your money where your mouth is. Get her to say ‘I love you’ by the end of the season and I’ll raise you an extra hundred and cover all your dishwasher shifts in September.”

JJ raises his brows with surprise. No one offers to take the dishwashing shift. Sometimes the boys are pulled back there when the kitchen is short staffed and it’s easily one of the worst jobs at the Club.

This bet was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up. “Deal.” JJ says.

The boys shake hands on it and the other guys whisper to each other about how intrigued they are to see this play out.

JJ wipes his sweaty palms against his apron and pushes the door open to approach your table, hoping he can hear you over his thudding heart.

“Good evening folks. May I take those empty plates out of your way?”

You look up at the voice you know so well and a smile raises on your lips. JJ meets your eyes and he winks at you, splattering your heart in flutters.

“Please.” Your grandmother pushes her plate away from her, stuffed with filet and red wine.

“JJ,” Your mom grins up at him. Growing up, your mom always had a soft spot for the blonde Pogue. She’s heard the stories about his father, mostly from Steve, who actually grew up with Luke Maybank, his cousin. As a child, he was sent to live with Luke Maybank and his single father. Lets just say, he’s not surprised by the way Luke turned out. “Look at you. You’re all grown up now. Last time I saw you, Y/N was still pushing your head in the sand for stealing her popsicle.”

“Yeah. I quickly learned no one should mess with Y/N and her food,” JJ says.

“Never stopped you though,” You smirk at him.

“Lorelai. Who is this?” Your grandma asks, disregarding the boy himself.

“Mom,” Lorelai gives her mom a warning look. “This is JJ Maybank. He went to school with Y/N and Rory.” Lorelai knew to play it safe with her wording. She didn’t know where you and JJ stood. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him and she knew better than to ask.

“Nice to meet you,” JJ says politely. “I’d shake your hand but mine are kinda full.” He motions to the plates in his hand.

“That’s quite all right.” Your grandma’s smile is so forced, it makes you uncomfortable.

“I won’t hold you up. Has your server been around with the dessert menu?” JJ looks at you. “We have chocolate cake tonight.”

Heat rushes up your neck. Not because of the cake itself but because JJ remembered your favorite dessert. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. It was safe to save you were a choco-holic. The boys use to make it for you every year for your birthday. It usually came out burnt, none of them ever remembering how to properly make it. But it was all you needed to feel like a very special girl.

“Your favorite,” Rory elbows you.

Your grandma cringes. “Sounds like diabetes on a plate.”

“Mom,” Lorelai scolds.

“What?” She asks, not understanding the concept of a filter.

Now heat rushes to your cheeks for an entire different reason. “He did. We’re not doing dessert tonight. Thank you, though.”

JJ nods but feels disappointed by the way your face flinched at your grandmother’s comment.

“My pleasure,” He says like he was taught to do and excuses himself to drop the plates off in the back before he can say anything else that would probably get him fired.

Your mom looks at your with raised brows. “He’s cute, honey.”

“Lorelai, please. He’s the busboy,” Your grandma says.

“He’s a good kid, Mom.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

Rory gives you a knowing grin as you walk away from the table. When you walk into the hallway between the dining area and the front lobby, you immediately feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Sometimes just the presence of your grandparents and their pompous judgements can be suffocating. You do your best to bite your tongue around them, excusing yourself when you feel yourself getting heated.

JJ catches a glimpse of your light blue dress out of the corner of his eye when he rounds the corner to collect the plates off a different table. He looks over his shoulder at Raymond, who’s staring at the blonde watching you, and winks.

“Hey, Y/N,” JJ says, walking up to you.

You look up from your phone and immediately smile. “Hey. I was actually hoping I’d catch you out here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nervously tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry about my grandmother. She can be...”

JJ shakes his head. “Hey. It’s okay. I work for Kooks almost every single day. I’m use to it.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control,” JJ says. “Besides, that’s probably the nicest she’s ever been to me.”

You hide your face in your hands. “Stop. You’re making it worse.”

JJ laughs and takes your wrists in his hands, slowly pulling them away from your face. Your eyes shoot up to his, immediately feeling a tingling feeling run through your skin, straight to your heart.

“It’s okay. I promise,” He says softly. His voice is so sincere that you have no other option but to believe him. It almost makes your feel guiltier, wondering how much bullshit he’s been through with ungrateful Kooks that it’s so easy for him to forgive and forget.

“Okay,” Your voice is a whisper, taken off guard by how close he is to you and how he still hasn't let go of your hands.

In that same moment, JJ realizes he’s still holding you and gently removes his hands. He coughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck, where sweat begins to bubble. Why is he so nervous?

“So um...” You say, suddenly feeling nervous too. “You going to John B’s tonight?”

JJ’s eyes shoot up in surprise. How did you know that? “Yeah. I’m heading over there after work.”

“I saw him and Pope at Heywards earlier today and they invited me over. I wasn’t sure if I should come or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Because it’s different now, you wanted to say. But you didn’t because you feel like the elephant in the room would only grow. And you didn’t want to admit you were nervous to meet Kie and Sarah outside of school.

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You should definitely come. The boys miss you.”

You pretend like a little piece of your heart didn’t just break when JJ didn’t say ‘we.’

“What time do you get off of work?”

“Around 9ish.”

You nod. “I can pick you up if you’d like and we could go together?”

Your heart races after you suggest it. What if he says no? Why were you feeling this way? This is the same kid you use to make fun of for pouring milk into his bowl before his cereal.

“Yeah. That’d be perfect.”

“Great!” Your phone pings with a text from Rory, telling you that your grandparents are wondering where you are. “Shit. I have to get back. I’ll see you at nine?”

“See you then,” JJ nods and turns back to the kitchen. When his eyes meet Raymond’s, he’s reminded of what he agreed to. Almost surprised how quickly he forgot about it. You were able to take his mind off of anything without even trying. He clears his throat to get rid of the giddy grin he was wearing after talking to you, wanting to look tough and casual in front of his coworker. “Easy.” He says to him. But that felt anything but easy. He could vomit with nerves.

“There’s still plenty of time for you to screw up, Maybank.”

JJ huffs. He’s not wrong.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You drive up to the front of the country club and park in front of the main entrance. It’s 8:57. You’re early and will look eager. So you wait until 9:06 to text him that you’re here.

You changed into a pair of dark washed denim shorts, a yellow cropped tube top, a grey flannel, and navy converse. You changed your outfit about four times before deciding on your first one, not wanting to look too casual or too dressed up.

For the last three years, you wondered when the four of you would get back together as a group. You wondered if it would ever happen. And now that two Kooks are involved, you feel more nervous than excited.

You jump when the passenger seat door opens, lost in the depth of your own head. JJ smiles, not seeing your reaction.”Cool ride,” he says and looks around the interior.

“Thanks,” you say, pulling out into the road.

“I got you something,” JJ says.

You glance at him with furrowed brows. What could he have possibly gotten you since you saw him last? A book mark from the Country Club’s gift shop?

JJ reaches into his backpack and pulls out a plate with clear wrap around it. Your mouth drops when you see the chocolate cake on a plate in his hands, the smell immediately hitting your nose with pure delight.

“You saved me a piece?” You jump in your seat excitedly.

“Had to hide it good too or else Miss Carol would have had my ass handed to me,” JJ jokes and even pulls out two forks. He undoes the wrapping and cuts off a piece. He waits until you hit a stop sign and says, “Open up.”

You look at him and immediately open your mouth. He gently places the fork between your lips and you take the piece of cake off with your teeth. Like a baby.

Your eyes close with pure pleasure. “Oh my god. That’s amazing.”

“Miss Carol does know how to bake a mean cake,” JJ says and takes a bite of his own.

“Another one,” You say, glancing at the cake again. Like you said, choco-holic. “Please.” You say when JJ teases you by holding the fork away from you.

JJ laughs. “I like hearing you beg.”

You slap him in the arm with the back of your hand. “In your dreams, Maybank.”

“You got that right, Y/L/N.”

The two of you finish the cake with only a few bites each. Small but rich in chocolate that leaves you craving more. You were gonna have to meet this Miss Carol woman.

After he puts the plate back in his bag, JJ reaches for the aux cord, but you quickly slap his hand away. “Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re seriously gonna make me listen to this the entire way to John B’s?”

You scoff. “I’ll have you know Blink-182 is one of my favorite bands.”

“It’s also soccer moms’ favorite band,” JJ laughs at you.

You turn up the volume, blasting ‘All the Small Things’ and point to your ear. “Sorry. Can’t hear you!”

JJ rolls his eyes but laughs along with you, even bopping his head to the beat. You drive with the windows down, dancing and singing along to a bunch of throwback songs with JJ as if the two of you have been doing this forever.

You pull up to John B’s and park behind his dad’s old van, better known as The Twinkie. When you turn down the music, JJ looks at you with a shake in his head. “Next time, I’m driving.”

“What was wrong with my driving?”

“We’re in the Outer Banks, Sparky, not NASCAR.”

You scoff and follow behind JJ who’s leading the way up John B’s driveway. As you get closer, you smell the smoky scent of a bonfire nearby and eventually hear John B’s laugh mixed in with a female’s. Your smile falters as nerves gather in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks.

“Nothing,” You say, but JJ easily catches your lie and gives you a knowing look. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Who? Pope and John B? I’m pretty sure they like you more than me even after three years -”

“Not them, you idiot,” You shove him playfully by the shoulder as you two let yourselves inside. “Sarah and Kie.”

“Don’t you go to school with them?”

“Yeah, but we don’t talk,” You say quietly, not wanting them to hear you.

“Hm.”

“What?” JJ shrugs. “Nothing. I just didn’t think you cared about what other people thought.”

“I don’t,” You say quickly. “But they're your best friends. It’s different.”

“You don’t need their approval. You technically were here first.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been replaced,” You try to say it as a joke and even throw a smirk in there.

But JJ stops in his track and looks at you seriously. “No one can replace you. Not even if they tried.”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re at a loss for words. It’s not a common occurrence that JJ gets all serious on you. Warmth covers you like a blanket and the longer he holds your stare, the weaker your knees become.

“JJ! Is that you?” John B calls out from the backyard.

“Yeah,” JJ yells back. He opens the fridge in John B’s kitchen. “Want a beer?” He offers to you.

You shake your head. “No thanks.”

For the first time, you take in John B’s home. It looks the same as it did three years ago, only a lot messier. The pull out couch looks like its been used recently with blankets and sheets tossed about on it. Empty beer cans and cigarette butts are thrown messily on the coffee tables and the air smells faintly of old marijuana.

JJ leads you out to the back where four people are gathered around a fire. Three out of the four immediately smile when the two of you approach them, but Kie’s eyes narrow and her head tilts with confusion.

Shit, you think.

“You came!” Pope laughs and hops up from his beach chair and embraces you in a hug.

You laugh, not expecting the embrace, but welcoming it all the same. John B’s next, giving you a quick hug and shaking his head.

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you were going to come,” John B says.

“You can thank me for that later,” JJ says jokingly.

“Actually when I heard JJ was coming, I almost changed my mind and stayed home,” You joke and smirk JJ’s way.

“Just like old times,” Pope says, looking between you and the blonde. The banter felt like the yall never separated in the first place.

“Hey, you know Sarah and Kie, right?” John B points to the girls. Sarah stands up to say hi, and eventually Kie follows her, not wanting to look rude, but stays off to the side, keeping her distance.

“Yeah,” You wave awkwardly.

“Hey!” Sarah says sweetly. “I didn’t realize you guys use to all hang out.”

“Y/N grew up down the street,” JJ explains and sips at his beer.

“You want a drink or something?” Pope asks you, not knowing JJ already did.

“No thank you,” You say again.

“You don’t drink?” Kie asks. It was the first thing she’s said to you.

“Not usually,” You say and hold her stare. You try to get a read on her, but she’s had to get a tell on. You can’t tell if she just doesn’t like you or just doesn’t know you. Either way, it makes you uneasy.

“Here, I’ll go grab you a chair,” Pope says and walks to the side of the house to grab another beat up beach chair.

As the night goes on, you feel the tension in your shoulders loosen and your body feel lighter. Most of the night was spent retelling childhood stories the four of you shared. Sarah would laugh at most of them, occasionally rolling her eyes at her boyfriend from the stupid shit he would do, although it sounds like he’s no different to you now.

You talked about the time you and JJ stole a golf cart for a joy ride on Figure Eight, or when you and John B pranked Pope by putting a dead fish in his locker, or how you and John B learned how to play guitar from youtube tutorials.

Midnight came around quickly and exhaustion was slowly taking over your body. It’s been a long day between the cafe flooding, dinner with your grandparents, and now this.

JJ was the first to notice you slowly fading.

“You okay?” He asks you quietly as everyone else is caught up in conversation.

“Yeah,” You say, lazily grinning at him.

“We can leave if you want,” He says.

“You’re not staying?” You ask. It sounded like everyone was planning to spend the night here. And as much as you wanted to, you just didn’t feel comfortable enough yet.

JJ shrugs. “My dad’s out of town tonight. It’ll be nice to have the house to myself.” Before you can say anything, he stands and brushes his hands against his pants. “All right, losers. We’re out of here.”

“Aw, you’re leaving?” Sarah pouts.

“Yeah, I’m beat and Y/N’s my ride home,” JJ says.

You were glad he didn’t call you out for being tired. You didn’t want to look lame in front of everybody, especially Kie.

“Thanks for having me,” You say to everyone. It might have been John B’s house, but it was everyone’s night you intruded on.

John B stands up to hug you. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You nod. “I won’t. I promise.”

Pope hugs you next. “Text me when you get back safe.”

“I will.”

“Bye!” Sarah waves and Kie exhales a ring of smoke from her blunt.

You wave at them before following JJ back to your car.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” JJ says. You didn’t realize you both walked to the driver’s side.

“What? No.”

JJ nods and holds his hands out for your keys. “I’m not dying tonight.”

“You’ve been drinking and smoking all night,” You say. You didn’t think JJ was drunk or even that high, but you were not going to let a teenager with an ounce of alcohol in his system get behind the wheel. “Next time. For now, hold on to the cupholder.”

JJ sighs dramatically and goes to the other side of the car and hops in the passenger seat.

This time you keep the music quiet, listening to the hum of the radio instead of your phone.

“Take a left,” JJ says.

“JJ, I know where you live. And it’s not left.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

You snicker. “Not in the slightest.”

JJ rolls his eyes. “Just take the left.”

You hold your hands up in surrender and take the left turn. He directs you for a couple more miles until he has you park in front of a 24 hour diner.

“What are we doing here?” You ask.

“I’m in the mood for a milkshake.”

“We just had cake!” You say.

“Come on, Sparky. Show me what that mouth can do,” JJ smirks.

You go to hit him again but he takes off running to the front entrance and pulls the door open. You chase after him, almost running into his back at the front host stand where JJ safely smirks at you in triumph.

“Two please,” He says to the hostess.

The old cranky woman leads you to a booth off to the side next to a window without a word.

A couple minutes later, a waitress walks by and asks if you’re ready to order.

“Yes. One chocolate milkshake and one black and white milkshake,” JJ orders for both of you, already knowing what flavor you’d want.

“And fries, please.” You say. The waitress nods, takes your menus, and walks off. JJ raises his brow at the extra order. “What?” You shrug. “Just showing you what my mouth can do.”

JJ scoffs. “What a tease.”

You playfully kick his shin under the table.

“Did you have fun tonight?” JJ asks.

“Yeah,” You answer. “Felt like old times. The girls are nice too.”

You were about to only mention Sarah, but you didn’t want to cause any issues with Kie. Not yet at least. Maybe she just needed time to warm up to you.

“See? I told you they wouldn’t bite.”

A couple minutes later, the waitress comes back with your milkshakes and fries.

“How’s John B doing? You know, with the whole Big John thing?” You ask delicately, unsure of how JJ would react to you pestering about John B’s business. “I didn’t want to ask and bring the mood down,” You explain yourself although you don’t need to.

JJ shrugs. “He’s in denial I think. Won’t sign a death certificate until he sees a body. He could be worse, though.”

“Yeah,” You say softly. You don’t know what you would do if you were in that situation. In a way you felt lucky that you never knew your dad at all. It would be harder to lose him, knowing who he was.

You take a fry and dip it into your milkshake before taking a bite. This makes JJ freeze and look at you like you have two heads.

“What?” You say with your mouth full.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” You say and give him a look to do it.

JJ reluctantly picks up the fry and dunks it into his milkshake. He looks at the fry questioningly before popping it into his mouth. Somehow the sweetness of the milkshake and the saltiness of the french fry complement each other beautifully and his widen in pleasant surprise.

“Oh wow,” JJ says.

“Told you,” You smirk.

You spend the next hour catching up, trying to fit the last three years into an hour. JJ does most of the talking because you want to know more about what John B, Pope, and JJ have been up to. Your life was so boring and depressing, you didn’t want to bore JJ with the details.

You drive JJ home and talk for a few minutes more when you park. He seems to be procrastinating getting out of the car, but you don’t mind. You could talk to him all night, suddenly not feeling tired anymore.

“All right. I’ll let you get home before the sun rises,” He says and opens the door. He pauses when his feet hit the ground and he looks back at you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have to work at the shop, why?”

“Well, there’s a storm coming in. John B and I might go out to surf the surge before it hits. You still surf?”

You scoff. “Do I still surf?”

JJ holds his hands up in surrender. “Just checking. You think you can handle the surge?”

“Let’s not forget who the better surfer is, JJ.”

“I didn’t. It’s still me.”

“You wish.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Now you have a point to prove. You have to show JJ that you’re still the better surfer.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” You agree.

“Great, it’s a date.” He winks and shuts the door before you can tell him otherwise.

You giggle to yourself as JJ walks up the front yard and stay there until he you see he gets in safely.

You pull out of the driveway, wishing he had asked you out on a real date. One that didn’t involve John B.

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#JJ Imagine #jj fic #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj obx #jj fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks fic #jj maybank one shot

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